#so this is not the best for my mental health

[petiolata]

Some of these are accurate/useful, others less so.

The gaslighting is one that gets it wrong imo--whether someone is just disagreeing with benign intention over what happened, or is trying to make you feel crazy, is not something that can always easily be determined, since we can't read the mind of the person disagreeing. So as a third party telling someone "You're wrong if you feel that was gaslighting" is irresponsible at best. At worst, *you* are wrong and now you've actively helped strengthen a gaslighter's attempt to make a victim doubt their own perceptions and sanity.

The definition of trauma there is also simplistic and fails to consider how the brain perceives negative events. Whoever made the graphic would be well-served by learning about the distinction between "small t trauma" and "large t trauma" (sometimes called by other terms).

Tbf, much of this is about chronic buildup of small events, so you could argue the original infographic is correct that "a single small hurtful event does not always cause trauma" *but* that doesn't change the fact that it's framing the discussion around trauma as single-events in isolation, and that is a huge disservice in itself. Complex trauma (caused by chronic repeated events, many of them small) is common and is the kind most survivors of childhood abuse and neglect have.

The definition provided would exclude most survivors of childhood abuse because it *was* their ordinary level of adversity, and many were able to cope--maladaptively, but still coping nonetheless.

Someone who survived a tornado or shooting may see themselves in that definition--a single hugely overwhelming event that stands out as incredible adversity compared to their regular life--but someone who was treated as worthless by their parents and their spouse every day of their life likely will not. Yet they are, nonetheless, a person who has experienced trauma.

Being told you're worthless every day may not be overwhelming in any single day but has a cumulative effect on a person's mind nonetheless.

I don't think that the definition of trauma there in that infographic is useful or good. Some parts of it may not be untrue, but taken as a whole it fails to give an accurate picture of what trauma is or how it works.

Anyway, that is my interpretation and reaction to the infographic OP shared. No one has to like or agree with my take.

ETA: it's worth pointing out that despite the claim of "actual psychology" the infographic was not made by a therapist or anyone qualified on mental health. "Igototherapy" is an Insta account that's entire schtick seems to be making low-effort mental health graphics in an attempt to drive traffic to their affiliate links for buying earbuds, DLing psych apps, and signing up through therapy networks.

found this today

Please use these terms correctly. Not doing so will deeply harm the people who actually have experienced trauma, gaslighting, triggers, and people who have NPD.

[adieutristana]

hii! could i request the arcane women comforting reader on her period?

of course! thank you for the request <3

b2b by charli xcx on repeat yuuuup

summary; headcanons of the arcane women comforting their girlfriend on her period.

characters included; jinx, vi, mel, sevika, caitlyn, maddie

tags/warnings; menstruation, fluff, comfort, suggestive (jinx's section), reader has hell periods, mentions of poor mental health, can't think of anything else honestly

minors and men dni.

jinx;

✧.* idk why, but i headcanon that jinx is one of those super lucky girls who has really light 3-4 day long periods. basically nothing at all.

✧.* so when you told her that your periods were long, and heavy, and painful, she was honestly taken aback. jinx was a bit puzzled as to how that's possible.

✧.* "but mine aren't that bad! are you suuure?"

✧.* she doesn't mean anything by it, she's just genuinely perplexed. sometimes it's difficult for jinx to put these kinds of things into perspective. however, the second she sees you doubled over in pain, clutching your stomach and whimpering in pain, her instincts kick in and she's rushing to your side.

✧.* "oh- oh, toots, are you okay?! what happened? why d'ya look so hurt?" she'd ask, crouching down next to you with panic evident in her voice.

✧.* "just... on my period," you'd strain. "nothing out of the ordinary. don't worry about me."

✧.* jinx absolutely will worry about you, though. she's by your side, asking you what you need. since her own periods are so mild, she doesn't know exactly where to start with this sort of thing. but she's doing her best.

✧.* she'll research! she finds out all about the cravings, mood swings, pains, and how to soothe all of those things. she nerds out when she gets to research anyways, but she'll go above and beyond to make sure her girl is comfortable and happy. as much as you can be during shark week, anyways.

✧.* the same day she finds you in pain, she's swiping things from shelves of pharmacies and convenience stores like no tomorrow. pain medicine, water bottles that she plans to heat up, chocolates, tubs of ice cream, blankets, lots of sanitary products. hell, she'll even burn a few dvds so the two of you can have movie nights. jinx doesn't do anything halfway, especially not something like this.

✧.* even more clingy than normal somehow. i imagine jinx runs pretty cold, but also has a lot of natural body heat, if that makes sense? she uses the guise of being your 'built-in heating pad,' though anyone can tell she just wants to be close to you and comfort you. she'll have both her arms and legs wrapped around you, nuzzling her face into the crook of your neck and peppering kisses along the soft skin.

✧.* "mm.. don't mind me, sugar. just wanna be here for 'ya, help you feel better 'n all that."

✧.* she's got such a sweet tooth, jinx might swipe a few of the snacks she stole for you while you're not looking... sorry. she can't help herself

✧.* will try to distract you to the best of her ability. movie nights as i said, as well as taking you around the streets of zaun (when you can manage to stand upright), gaming with you and purposely letting you win just so she can see your smile and hear your laugh.

✧.* along with the extra clingy thing, jinx will not let you out of your sight until she's absolutely sure that you're off your period. it's not that she doesn't think you can handle yourself, but she just worries so much. part of her knows it's irrational, but seeing you in so much pain eats at her inside, makes her afraid that she's going to lose you. even though it's just a natural part of your cycle

✧.* she's also read that other kinds of relief can be especially helpful for cramps, so you know jinx will be offering that to you if you know what i mean.

vi;

✧.* oh she's right there with you.

✧.* has the worst fucking periods known to man. it's like she's completely MIA as soon as it hits every month, she's just dead to the world. trust me, she understands.

✧.* which means that she can help you that much better! she knows firsthand what it's like and what works for her, but she also knows that it's not a one-size-fits-all situation. it'll take a bit of time, but vi knows what she's doing.

✧.* she's already got a stash of things lined up for you in her bathroom the day after you tell her you've gotten your period. panty liners, pads, tampons of different sizes. she doesn't even bother asking what you prefer to use, she just wants you to have the options depending on what you need at what time. only the best for her girl

✧.* fridge, freezer and cupboards are also full to the brim of your favorite snacks, the best medications. candies, chocolates, baked goods, ice cream, pain relief... all the good stuff.

✧.* don't even bother asking where she got all this stuff and how she could afford it, just let vi take care of you.

✧.* "shh, cupcake. that's for me to worry about. you sit your pretty self down and let me do all the hard work, 'kay?"

✧.* has heated blankets and water bottles ready for you at all times! the second she hears the slightest whimper of pain from you she's got the water bottle in her hand, instructing you to lean back so she can put it against your lower abdomen. she'll stay with you to make sure you're okay. she needs that reassurance both for you and herself.

✧.* vi is the type of lover who can't rest until she knows for sure that you're okay, regardless of how much you tell her that you're alright.

✧.* "i'm fine, baby. really, you don't need to worry about me." you'd say, though the way your face contorted in discomfort betrayed your words. "are you sure? you can't fool me, pretty. i know you're hurting. just let me help you. that's what i'm here for."

✧.* she also knows that insomnia comes with menstruation at times, so she'll make sure you sleep in her bed until you're off your period. holding you close, rubbing soothing circles over your back and stomach to help relieve some of the pain for you. don't worry about clinging to her, don't worry about how long it takes you to fall asleep or even the possibility of bleeding onto her sheets. vi just wants to make you feel comfortable, she'll take care of everything later.

✧.* doesn't let you do a damn thing for yourself. she almost treats you as if you're made of glass. it's not that thinks you're helpless, vi knows damn well just how fierce and independent you are. but she also enjoys taking care of you and knowing she's making your life easier.

✧.* "i'm on my period, not helpless." you'd protest, crossing your arms over your chest with a light pout. vi would chuckle to herself, playfully pinching one of your cheeks. "i know, i know. but i just wanna do this for you, okay? let me take care of you."

mel;

✧.* mel probably knows your cycle by heart after a certain amount of time being with you. not in a creepy way, but she's just that connected and attuned to you.

✧.* she'll come to you a few days before she knows you're due for your period, concern evident in her tone. "are you starting to cramp at all, dear?" she'd ask, or something along the lines of, "i know you're due soon. no discomfort? any cravings? you can tell me these things, darling."

✧.* she has a constant stash of things and she knows your preferences when it comes to hygiene products, snacks, medicine, all of your favorite comforts. she truly knows you like the back of your hand.

✧.* she'll be taking off work for you as well, as much as you protest and assure her that you're okay. realistically, mel knows sure and well that you're okay. but she still wants that time to be with you and make sure that you're comfortable and you're in as little pain as possible. it's more for her own peace of mind.

✧.* her own are honestly pretty moderate, not too bad but not exactly pleasant either. though again, she's attuned to your own senses and knows exactly what you need.

✧.* mel will be basically attached to you by the hip. she doesn't let you out of her sight for a second out of pure worry for you and your well-being. seeing you nauseous, craving the most odd foods, doubled over in pain, it hurts your girlfriend to even think about. she knows she can't outright prevent all of that, but it'll ease her mind to be there by your side.

✧.* mel doesn't insist that you take it easy, she knows that life goes on despite everything. she doesn't want to hover over you too much, but again, she'll be by your side. helping you run errands, walking you to and from work, watching from the sidelines as you do those little things that make you happy. painting, reading, writing... any of it.

✧.* it's a well-known fact that she loves to spoil you, so if you mention wanting anything at all, she won't even go out and buy it for you. she'll take you to the store with her and tell you to just buy whatever you'd like. no limits.

✧.* "anything at all, beautiful. let me treat you." "but mel, this is-" she'd shush you lightly, a playful smile tugging at her lips. "too much? nonsense. i can handle it, you just tell me what you need. it pains me to see you so uncomfortable, regardless of how natural it is."

✧.* holding onto you so tightly, and you just know mel would give the best massages. literally anywhere that's sore, she'll massage for you with such love and care. her fingertips are a bit calloused and rough, but always so soft with you.

✧.* also runs you warm baths and even tosses in salts and flowers! they help her a lot when she's having period-related pains, so she hopes they'll have the same effect on you. she's happy to leave you to yourself, or sit near the edge of the tub and just talk to you. whatever would make you the most comfortable and happy.

sevika;

✧.* she's also got pretty mild periods, but she is very attuned to you and your senses. sevika can't exactly feel your pain and discomfort, though she knows how to ease it.

✧.* trust me when i say that she's got a good supply of things for you. all the sanitary products you could need, extra-strength pain medications, heated blankets, heat pads, snacks, the whole nine yards. uncomfortable and hurting? not on sevika's watch.

✧.* "just tell me what ya need, darlin'. you know i'll get it." she'd say, spooning you tightly while one hand rests over your lower stomach. you'd mumble light protests, but she wouldn't have it. "i know you're okay, babe. you tell me that enough. but i still wanna help, okay?"

✧.* so touchy and so clingy. sevika doesn't want to let go of you for a second, not if she can help it. whether that be holding you from behind while you move about the kitchen cooking, holding you close to her in bed, keeping an arm around your waist as you saunter around the lanes together, or brushing her lips against your forehead, she relishes that contact. especially when you're vulnerable like this.

✧.* she still has things to do. unfortunately, sevika's job isn't really one that she can take time off from, as much as she'd like to. but the second she gets off work, she's back home, by your side. your girlfriend is so loyal, so doting when it comes to you. a side of the usually gruff woman that's reserved exclusively for you.

✧.* she also won't hinder you from doing anything for yourself, the last thing she needs is for you to feel both excruciating pain and helplessness at the same time. however, sevika makes it clear that she's happy to take over whatever task you need if it gets to be too much.

✧.* you could be in the middle of a task when a cramp suddenly hits you, making you nearly fold in half and clutch at your stomach. "hey, what's wrong?" sevika would ask, cold metal against your shoulder. "cramps? come on, i'll take it from here. you go lay down."

✧.* do not worry about needing to ask for help with sevika. ever. she's more than happy to provide it for you, don't worry about asking for 'too much' or being 'too demanding.' you're her girlfriend, and you're on your period. there's no such thing as either of those with her.

✧.* "come on. you know whatever it is, i'll do it for you. so tell me," she'd pause, crossing her arms and raising an eyebrow in that way she typically does, "what do you need, dove?"

✧.* also super attentive during sleep, would probably stay up just so that she can make sure you're okay and sleeping through the night. sevika is used to running on little to no sleep, thank her line of work. she'll try to keep it quiet, not let you know that she's observing, but she just worries. she wants to make sure you aren't suffering any bouts of insomnia. that, and seeing your peaceful expression during slumber is a plus.

caitlyn;

✧.* caitlyn gets it, she really does. one of piltover's strongest enforcers and officials, but struck down once a month by menstruation. something had to take her down a notch.

✧.* she knows exactly what'll help her, and she hopes it'll help you too. though she gives you options, since she knows you probably won't have all the same preferences as her when it comes to sanitary products, snacks, care, etc. cait will take her time so that she gets your routine down pat, before she eventually just has everything stocked in her home for when the time inevitably comes every month.

✧.* caitlyn is constantly checking in on you. she’ll ask you about every little thing, making sure that you’re not straining too hard, not in too much pain. you could be sitting on your bed, folding towels, and caitlyn would ask something like, “are you sure that’s not too much right now? if your back or stomach is hurting, i can take over.”

✧.* she’ll want to keep you at home with her on the days that are the hardest on you. the days where you’re groaning in pain, you can barely think straight from just how uncomfortable you are. when you’re an emotional mess from the mood swings and crying over a puppy you saw on the street. she wants to be there to comfort you and help you get back on your feet.

✧.* “shh… love, it’s fine. i know, that puppy was adorable.” you’d sniffle, looking up at her with pleading eyes. “can we get one, cait? please?” she’d chuckle quietly, letting out a heavy sigh. “maybe when i don’t have so much on my plate.”

✧.* she's on top of your every need. in pain? here's a bottle of painkillers. cravings? she's already got whatever you need. in the case that she doesn't, caitlyn is in the kitchen making something for you herself. she'll be damned if she lets her girlfriend go unsatisfied, especially on her period.

✧.* she'd be so doting especially when it comes to the pain, caitlyn wants to just hold you until all of the cramps are gone. realistically, she knows there's not much she can do besides offer a few over-the-counter methods. she's gonna have to wait until they run their course, but it doesn't make her want to cling to you any less. she wishes she could hold you and you'd feel the rest of the world melt away

✧.* "fuck, cait, it hurts," you'd whimper, clinging tight to the girl with your brows knitted together. she'd softly hush you, her one hand slipping under the fabric of your top to run soothing circles over your lower back. "i know, darling. i'm here, it'll be alright."

✧.* cait would run you warm baths as well, she's at your side the entire times. she'll throw in flower petals and salts, maybe even a bath bomb if it'll make you happy. not only will it help ease the pain, but making you feel cared for in this time is of the upmost importance to her. yes, you feel gross, but you don't have to! look at the nice bath she drew you! she'll even help wash you off if you need it, or she's happy to just stay by your side and talk to you as you soak.

maddie;

✧.* maddie's own are pretty moderate, but she has a cut-and-dry routine she's stuck to as a teenager. works like a charm every time her period rolls around, so she hopes those methods will work for you. though, if they don't, maddie will immediately stop and regroup.

✧.* maddie i don't think would be super in tune with everything.. i apologize. she'll connect the dots after she sees you hunched over in pain or with a bottle of painkillers in one hand and a tub of ice cream in the other, but she won't be able to pick up on it right away like some others might.

✧.* but that doesn't make her any less good at comforting you, let's make that abundantly clear. as soon as she catches onto what's happening, she's basically waiting on you hand and foot. maddie is devoted!

✧.* now of course, she's a junior officer. maddie can't be by your side as often as she'd like to, unfortunately. she likes her job, but sometimes she curses it for holding her back from her girlfriend in times of need.

✧.* so she second she's allowed off the job, she's swinging the door open with a bag full of snacks to make her presence known. "i'm home, darlin'! where are ya?" she'd announce, glancing around the empty space before her eyes land on you. "oh, there you are. here, i brought these back! sorry, i know i was gone for a while, but i'm here now, yeah?"

✧.* however, you'll have to ask for a lot of what you need. maddie knows that you're independent and capable of helping yourself, so she doesn't want to assume unless she knows for sure that you're incapable of it because of pain or discomfort. that's one of the things she doesn't really budge on. if you're able to voice what's bothering you, she'll be more than happy to be of help!

✧.* also really, really good at distracting you. she'll put on movies, plug in cassettes of your favorite albums, talk to you for hours on end about nothing and everything simultaneously. maddie figures that if she can take your mind off of it, that's better than just waiting out the discomfort.

✧.* she kinda sucks at cooking. sorry.. but! she'd still make sure any cravings of yours are filled. freezer is packed to the brim with ice cream, and she's got lots of sugary treats for you in her cupboards. i also would imagine she lives basically smack in the middle of piltover, next to a lot of vendors and convenience stores. so on the off-chance she doesn't have something you need, she's already on her way to grab it for you.

✧.* "i'll be right back, okay? just running around the corner. rest assured."

✧.* also so cuddly especially when it comes to being in bed with you. she's already clingy, but you might have to pry her off of you when you're on your period. she hopes you wouldn't want to, though, not when she's got her legs wrapped around your waist and her head nestled into the warmth of your neck.

[03jyh23]

💬⌇like i need you part two┆ jeong yunho

│part of goes to waste the series based on my favourite keshi songs

│listen here

│part one

non-idol!yunho x non-idol!reader

│synopsis: yunho's love for you burns fiercely. as lovers turned exes, he's left shattered when you leave, moving out of the apartment you once shared. his nights become a blur of desperation, calling you relentlessly, begging for another chance.

│genre: lovers to exes, angst, smut

│(!)trigger warnings: mental health issues, self-harm (mentioned), blood, toxic relationships, depression, emotional trauma, strong language, emotional abuse, nicotine addiction, explicit sexual content, angry sex

please be sure to proceed with caution. this story contains themes that may be distressing to some readers.

│words: 11.6 k

│reminder: what you’re about to read is purely fiction, so let’s keep it separate from reality.

!minors do not interact!

love, mon♡

│taglist: @skittyneos │ @kyeos4ng │ @vcutparis │

│ @ateezswonderland │ @jycas│ @velvetskize │ @e3ellie │

│ @sertralinehoe │ @hoeforalbedo │

Mingi took the stairs two at a time, his heart thundering in his chest as he raced to the fourth floor. Every second felt like an eternity as adrenaline coursed through his veins. Without pausing to catch his breath, he burst through the doors of Yunho's apartment, the sound of devastating sobs immediately assaulting his ears like shards of ice. He rushed toward the bathroom, each heartbeat growing more intense with mounting dread.

The scene that confronted him knocked the air from his lungs. Yunho was huddled in the bathroom corner, surrounded by a constellation of broken mirror fragments. His knuckles were a mess of crimson, delicate skin shredded by countless tiny shards of glass that glinted menacingly in the harsh bathroom light. Blood had splattered across the tiles, but Yunho seemed completely unaware of his injuries as he rocked back and forth, broken words tumbling from his lips between gut-wrenching sobs.

"Fuck, Yunho," Mingi whispered as he carefully navigated the minefield of glass shards. He lowered himself slowly, deliberately, "Hey, I'm here. I'm right here with you."

When Yunho finally lifted his gaze, Mingi's heart shattered at the sight. His friend's eyes were bloodshot and hollow, tears cutting paths through the anguish written across his features. "She's gone, Mingi," he choked out, his voice raw and broken. "She's really gone this time."

"I know," Mingi murmured, reaching out to squeeze Yunho's shoulder with gentle reassurance. "Let's get you cleaned up first, okay? Those hands need attention."

A bitter, hollow laugh escaped Yunho's throat, the sound more painful than any cry. "What's the point? Everything hurts anyway. Everything just... fucking hurts."

The raw agony in his friend's voice made Mingi's chest constrict painfully. In all their years of friendship, he'd never witnessed Yunho so thoroughly broken, so completely untethered from himself. Without hesitation or words, he carefully settled onto the cold bathroom floor beside him, careful to avoid the broken glass shards, and pulled his best friend into a protective embrace. Yunho crumpled against him instantly, his broad frame wracked with fresh, devastating sobs.

"She's never coming home," Yunho sobbed, hiding his face in the crook of Mingi's neck, his voice muffled but the pain in it crystal clear. His fingers clutched desperately at Mingi's shirt, staining it with blood, as if afraid his friend would disappear too if he let go.

"I've got you," Mingi whispered fiercely, tightening his hold as if he could physically keep his friend from falling apart. "I've got you, brother. Just let it all out."

"I was too harsh on her," Yunho whispered, his body trembling uncontrollably with renewed force. His bloodied fingers tightened their grip on Mingi's shirt. "I said such terrible things... I didn't mean to... God, I didn't mean to hurt her like that."

Mingi remained silent, knowing his friend needed to let everything out. The bathroom light flickered above them, casting shifting shadows across the devastation surrounding them.

"But it hurts so fucking much," Yunho continued, his voice cracking. "When I saw her, it's like... like I'm losing her all over again. And I can't... I can't keep feeling like this, Mingi. I can't keep pretending I'm okay with her being around but not really being mine anymore. I'm not okay. I'm so far from okay."

Mingi held his friend tighter as another wave of sobs wracked through Yunho's body. The blood from his injured hands was seeping through both their clothes now, but neither of them moved.

"Yun, we need to get you to the hospital," Mingi said softly. "They need to clean those-..."

"No," Yunho mumbled, shaking his head weakly against Mingi's shoulder. "Just... just let me stay here for a bit longer. Please."

"You're bleeding all over the place," Mingi insisted gently, though he didn't loosen his hold. "Those cuts could get infected. And some of them look deep enough to need stitches."

Yunho let out a shaky breath that might have been attempting to be a laugh. "Seems fitting, doesn't it? Everything else about me is fucked up and broken. Might as well match on the outside too."

"Don't," Mingi's voice was sharp but filled with concern. "Don't talk like that. Come on, let me help you up. We're going to the emergency room, and I'm not taking no for an answer this time."

After what felt like an eternity, Yunho finally gave a small, defeated nod. His movements were sluggish as Mingi carefully helped him to his feet, steadying him when he swayed dangerously. The bathroom light caught the tears still streaming down his face, making them glitter like the broken mirror fragments scattered at their feet.

"I'm sorry," Yunho whispered as Mingi guided him through the apartment. "For making you deal with all this. With me."

"Hey," Mingi's voice was fierce with protective love. "You never have to apologize for needing me. That's what brothers are for."

The insistent ringing of your doorbell jolted you awake. You were still on the sofa, coat, and shoes on, with no clear memory of how you'd made it home. As consciousness crashed over you, the memories came rushing back with a force that triggered a painful sensation in your temple. Your phone was dead, clutched tightly in your hand. The morning light filtering through your curtains felt too harsh, too accusatory, making your head pound even harder. Every blink brought back flashes of last night - Yunho's tears, his broken voice, the sound of something shattering against the wall. The taste in your mouth was bitter, a mix of bile and regret. You couldn't tell if the nausea rising in your throat was from the emotional aftermath or sympathy pains from watching Yunho be sick. Maybe it was both. Your eyes felt swollen and raw, your cheeks still tight from dried tears.

The doorbell rang again as you managed to get up from the sofa. With trembling hands, you finally plugged in your phone, dreading what messages might await. As the screen flickered to life, notifications began flooding in - missed calls from Mingi, concerned texts from your friend, but nothing from him. The silence from Yunho's end felt more deafening than any scream. His broken voice echoed in your head: "You lost that right."

The guilt hit you like a physical blow, knocking the air from your lungs. You'd been so focused on protecting yourself, on justifying your decisions, that you'd refused to truly see the devastation you'd left in your wake. The man who once lit up every room he entered, whose laugh could make your whole day better, was now drowning in darkness - and you were the one who'd extinguished his light. Memories began surfacing unbidden - his gentle touches, the way he'd kiss your forehead when you were stressed, how he'd dance ridiculously in the kitchen just to make you smile. Each happy memory now felt like a knife twisting in your chest, because you'd taken all that joy and turned it into poison.

You found yourself clutching your chest, trying to hold yourself together as the weight of what you'd done finally crashed over you. The love hadn't faded - it had been there all along, buried under layers of excuses and self-protection. But now it burned through you like acid, mixed with guilt so profound it felt like it might tear you apart.

The worst part was knowing that even if you wanted to fix it, to make it right, you'd lost that privilege. Your actions had burned that bridge to ashes, and now all you could do was watch from a distance as the person you loved most in the world fell apart, knowing you were the reason for both his pain and your own.

The doorbell rang again, more insistently this time, pulling you from your spiral of self-loathing. You knew it had to be Mingi - probably here to check on you after last night's chaos. Part of you wanted to pretend you weren't home, to sink deeper into your cocoon of misery, but you knew he wouldn't leave until he saw for himself that you were okay.

With a heavy sigh, you dragged yourself to the door, only to freeze when you opened it to find San standing there instead of Mingi. His expression was a mix of irritation and reluctance.

"Look, I don't want to be here, but Mingi was up my ass telling me to come—" San's words died in his throat as he took in your appearance, his annoyed expression shifting to something more complex. His eyes widened slightly, scanning over your tear-stained face, rumpled clothes, and the general air of devastation that must have been radiating off you.

The harsh edge in his stance softened almost imperceptibly. He cleared his throat, clearly uncomfortable with the situation he found himself in. "Shit," he muttered under his breath, running a hand through his hair. "You look as bad as he does."

You couldn't meet San's gaze, feeling utterly numb yet somehow experiencing everything all at once. The weight of last night's events pressed down on your chest, making it difficult to breathe. Your fingers absently traced the doorframe, seeking something solid to ground yourself as the world seemed to spin beneath your feet.

San sighed deeply, his shoulders sagging as he made his way into the apartment without waiting for an invitation. You remained frozen in place, your mind struggling to process the simple act of his presence, staring blankly at the space where he had been standing for several long seconds before your foggy consciousness registered that he was already inside. Time felt distorted, moving both too quickly and too slowly, as you finally managed to close the door with trembling fingers, the soft click of the latch echoing in the heavy silence.

San finally spoke, his voice slightly softer than before, "Mingi's worried about both of you, and honestly..." He paused, choosing his words carefully. "I've never seen Yunho like this before. Not even when..."

He trailed off, leaving the unspoken words hanging heavily in the air. You could see the conflict in his expression - the loyalty to his friend warring with the understanding that pain rarely chooses sides.

"Look," he continued, shifting his weight uncomfortably. "I know it's not my place, and maybe I'm the last person who should be here right now. But Mingi's at the hospital with Yunho, and he wanted to make sure you were... functioning, I guess."

The word 'hospital' hit you like a physical blow, making your knees weak. "Hospital?" your voice came out barely above a whisper.

San's expression tightened, realizing he might have said too much. He ran a hand through his hair again, a gesture of clear discomfort. "It's not... He's going to be fine. Physically, at least."

To change the subject, San looked around the apartment, taking in the unfamiliar surroundings. "What's even this place?"

"It's my friend's apartment," you explained, your voice still raw. "She's out of town for a work project, so I'm crashing here until she's back."

San sighed heavily as he made his way to sit down on a kitchen table chair, you followed in his footsteps. His eyes lingered on your disheveled state as you sat down across him, a mix of concern and resignation crossing his features. "You should change, considering you're still in your coat from yesterday. Maybe take a shower? I'll just be here until you finish."

You remained frozen in place, the thought of changing, of doing anything normal, felt surreal in the face of everything that had happened.

"Listen," San leaned back in his chair, his expression a mix of exhaustion and frustration. "Mingi asked me to check on you. Trust me, I'm not exactly thrilled about playing messenger between you two so let’s just get it done with quick."

"I didn't ask for anyone to check on me," you muttered.

"No, you didn't," San agreed, his voice carrying a sharp edge. "But Mingi's stuck in the middle of this mess, watching his two best friends tear themselves and each other apart. So here I am, making sure you haven't completely fallen apart too."

His eyes narrowed as he leaned forward, fingers drumming against the table. "I have no idea what's gotten into you to walk out of your shared life with Yunho, and quite honestly, I don't even want to take the time to understand you," San's words cut through the air. "Do you have any idea what you've done? The life you two built together, the plans, the dreams - you didn't just walk away from him, you demolished everything. And for what?"

His voice grew quieter, but somehow that made it worse. "He loved you more than anything in this world. The way he looked at you... God, we all wished someone would look at us that way. And you just..." he shook his head, disgust evident in his features. "You took all of that and threw it away like it meant nothing. Like he meant nothing."

"He keeps saying he wasn't enough," San continued, his voice cracking slightly. "That he should have tried harder, been better. Do you know what it's like watching someone you care about destroy themselves because they think they're worthless?”

Every word felt like another weight added to the crushing guilt already suffocating you. San wasn't saying anything you hadn't already told yourself, but hearing it from someone else, someone who had witnessed the destruction from the outside, made it feel devastatingly real.

You wanted to speak, to defend yourself, to explain the tangled mess of fears and doubts that had driven you to this point, but the words died in your throat. San's judgment felt like a mirror reflecting back every self-accusation you'd been wrestling with since moving out.

San watched you for a long moment, his expression unreadable. "I get it. Love is scary. Commitment is terrifying. But running away? That's not the answer. It never is."

"I thought I was protecting myself," you admitted, your voice barely audible. "I thought if I left first, it would hurt less than eventually losing him. But now..."

"Now you're both destroyed," San finished bluntly. "Congratulations on that stellar logic."

The silence that followed was deafening, filled with all the things left unsaid, all the regrets that were too late to matter, and all the pain that seemed to have no end in sight.

"Just go take that shower," San repeated firmly, his patience wearing thin.

"I will, right after you tell me how's Yunho and why he ended up in the hospital," you countered, your voice finding a sudden strength. "I'm still his emergency contact. If you won't tell me, I'll just call the hospital myself."

San's face twisted into a cruel smirk. "Oh, now you care? That's rich coming from someone who walked away without a second thought. Who abandoned everything we all thought was real. You lost the right to know anything about him the moment you chose to leave."

"I need you to leave," you said, your voice trembling with barely contained emotion, fingers digging into your palms so hard they left crescent marks. "Get the fuck out. Now."

San's eyes narrowed dangerously, a cruel smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. "Or what? You'll run away from me too? That's your specialty, isn't it? Running away when things get too real, too fucking difficult?"

"This isn't your goddamn business, San," you snapped, anger finally breaking through your numbness like a dam bursting. Your voice rose with each word, echoing off the walls. "You don't get to come here and act like you know every fucking thing about my relationship with Yunho. You have no idea what I've been through, what we've—"

"Oh, but I do know," San stood up so violently his chair crashed to the floor behind him, his voice thundering through the apartment. "I fucking know because I'm the one who had to watch him break down last night! I'm the one who—"

"GET THE FUCK OUT!" you screamed, the force of your voice ripping through your throat like razor blades. The vase on the table shattered as your hand swept across it in a blind rage. Your whole body was trembling, tears streaming down your face as you pointed at the door. "Just... get out. Please. I can't... I can't do this anymore."

San stared at you for what felt like an eternity, his jaw clenched so tight you could see the muscle twitching. The silence between you crackled with tension, thick enough to choke on. Finally, he moved towards the door with deliberate slowness, stopping just before he opened it. His knuckles turned white as he gripped the doorknob.

"You know what's really fucking funny?" he said, his voice dropping to a deadly whisper that somehow cut deeper than any scream. "You're right. This isn't my business. But at least I stayed to fight for it. You?" He let out a bitter laugh that felt like acid in the air. "You just gave up. Like a fucking coward."

The door slammed behind him with such force that the walls seemed to vibrate with the echoes of his anger. You stood there, frozen, staring at the closed door as his words reverberated in your mind. The shards of the broken vase glinted on the floor, a perfect metaphor for the wreckage of your life.

Like a robot operating on autopilot, you dragged yourself to the bathroom. The shattered vase remained forgotten on the floor, a problem for another time. Your mind was too clouded, too heavy with thoughts that refused to settle. The shower routine passed in a blur - you couldn't remember if you'd washed your hair once or twice, or if you'd even used soap at all. Getting dressed was equally mechanical, with muscle memory taking over where conscious thought failed.

Before you knew it, you were back on the sofa, staring blankly at nothing in particular. Your phone felt unnaturally heavy in your hand, and when it started vibrating with Mingi's incoming call, your heart lurched painfully in your chest.

You stared at the screen, watching Mingi's name flash insistently. Each vibration felt like another accusation, another reminder of everything you'd destroyed. After what felt like an eternity, you let the call go to voicemail, your hand trembling as you set the phone face-down on the coffee table.

The phone buzzed two more times in quick succession - Mingi, again and again. Each vibration seemed to echo through your entire body, but you couldn't bring yourself to answer. Eventually, the rhythmic buzzing of yet another incoming call became a strange lullaby, pulling you into a fitful sleep right there on the couch.

The gentle knock at the door pulled you from your restless sleep. Your body protested as you stood up, muscles stiff from sleeping in an awkward position. Opening the door revealed Mingi, his tall frame carrying several bags of takeout, his expression softer than you'd expected.

"Hey," he said quietly, lifting the bags slightly. "Thought you might need some food. Can I come in?"

You stepped aside wordlessly, letting him enter. The apartment still bore the evidence of your confrontation with San - the broken vase pieces swept hastily into a corner, the overturned chair still lying on its side.

Mingi set the food down on the table and turned to you, his eyes full of concern. Without warning, he pulled you into a tight hug. The familiar comfort of his embrace broke something inside you, and you found yourself clinging to him as tears started falling again.

"I know," he murmured, rubbing soothing circles on your back. "I know it's hard. But you need to eat something, okay?"

Mingi let you go from his hug, looking around the small apartment with concerned eyes. He quietly righted the overturned chair, his gaze lingering on the broken vase in the corner. Moving to crouch beside the shattered pieces, he carefully picked up a larger fragment.

"Mingi, don't..." you whispered.

"I'll help you clean this up," he said softly, already looking around for something to sweep up the smaller pieces. "We shouldn't leave broken glass lying around."

You found a dustpan and brush in the kitchen, bringing them back to help Mingi clean up the mess. Working together in silence, you gathered the glittering shards, each piece a reminder of your earlier outburst. The simple act of cleaning somehow felt therapeutic, as if clearing away the physical debris could somehow help clear the emotional wreckage as well.

As you both settled at the table, Mingi began unpacking containers of your favorite comfort foods. The gesture was so thoughtful it made your throat tight.

"Listen," he said carefully, watching you pick at your food. "I know this isn't ideal timing, but... Yunho's going to be staying with me for a while. A few days at least. I think... I think it might be good if you used this time to get your things from the apartment. You know, the rest of your stuff."

You froze mid-bite, the implications of his words hitting you hard. Getting your things meant truly accepting it was over. Making it final.

"I'll help you," Mingi offered gently, reaching across the table to squeeze your hand. "You don't have to do it alone."

You stared down at your barely touched food, the weight of his words settling heavily in your chest. The thought of going back to that apartment, of seeing all the remnants of your shared life with Yunho, made your stomach twist into knots.

"I'll do it myself," you whispered, wiping furiously at the tears that wouldn't stop falling. Your voice cracked as you looked at Mingi, desperation clawing at your chest. "Is it... is it really over like this?"

Mingi remained silent, his eyes filled with a sadness that spoke volumes. The weight of his silence crushed what little hope you had left, and you found yourself breaking down completely, shoulders shaking with uncontrollable sobs. The silence stretched between you, heavy with unspoken truths. You both knew who had walked away. You both knew whose choices had led to this moment. The guilt of it all made your chest ache unbearably.

"Please," you choked out between sobs, "just tell me how he is. Is he okay? I need to know if he's okay."

But Mingi just sat there, his silence a reminder of San's earlier words - you'd lost the right to know. Your tears fell harder as the reality of your situation sank in deeper, each quiet moment another reminder of everything you'd thrown away.

Perhaps Mingi's heart was too pure, or perhaps the years of friendship between all of you were what made him finally break his silence. His expression softened as he watched you fall apart.

"He..." Mingi hesitated, weighing his words carefully. "He broke the mirror in his bathroom. Got some bad cuts from playing with the glass. They had to put in stitches, but thankfully there's no permanent nerve damage, even though some cuts were pretty deep." He paused, running a hand through his hair. "They're keeping him for vitamin IVs right now. Turns out he hasn't been eating properly... they want to monitor him for a bit."

The words hit you with a force that knocked the air out of your lungs, each detail making it harder to breathe. The image of Yunho, alone and hurting enough to... You pressed your hands against your face, trying to hold back a fresh wave of tears.

"Nurse told me he was asleep," Mingi continued, checking his phone briefly. "I had to leave since they wouldn't let me stay as I'm not family. I decided to just stop by here since they won't let him out till evening. I'll get him and we'll go to mine - I don't want him to be alone."

His words twisted the knife of guilt deeper into your heart. You'd been his family once, or at least you were supposed to be.

Now you were just another stranger, someone who'd lost the privilege of knowing how he was doing, of being there when he needed support. This was the consequence of your choices, the price of walking away. Your chest felt hollow as you stared at your food, wondering how everything had fallen apart so completely.

"Why did you do that?" Mingi asked softly, his eyes searching your face for answers. "You both were so happy. Everyone could see how much he loved you, how much you loved him. What changed?"

The question hung heavy in the air between you, forcing you to confront the choices that had led to this moment. Your hands trembled as you put your fork down, buying time as you struggled to find the words to explain something you barely understood yourself.

"You love him, I know you do," Mingi added, his eyes scanning your face. "That's what makes this even harder to understand."

"I got scared," you whispered, your voice barely audible. "Everything was so perfect, and I... I convinced myself it couldn't last. That I'd end up losing him anyway, so maybe if I left first..." You trailed off, realizing how pathetic it sounded.

"So you chose to break both your hearts instead?" Mingi's voice was gentle but carried an undercurrent of frustration.

"I know it doesn't make sense," you said, tears falling freely now. "I know I ruined everything. I just... I couldn't handle how much I needed him. How much it would destroy me if he ever left."

Mingi sighed heavily, his eyes scanning your tear-stained face. "I hate to admit it, but... look at you. You're a mess too. You've completely ruined yourself. You look like you haven't slept in days, your eyes are swollen from crying, and..." He trailed off, shaking his head with a mixture of frustration and concern. "You destroyed yourselves trying to prevent something that wasn't even happening."

Your eyes welled up with fresh tears at his words, knowing he was right. The irony of it all felt like a cruel joke - you'd walked away to avoid pain, only to cause more devastation than you could have imagined.

"You know," Mingi said softly, his eyes distant as if remembering something, "he still wants to call you in the middle of the night. Every single night." He let out a heavy sigh. "He sits there, phone in hand, staring at your number until dawn breaks. Won't press call anymore, but... the need is still there. And I know you do the same - I can see it in your eyes, in how exhausted you look. You both need each other like you need air to breathe, but you're both too scared to make that first move."

The memory of all those nights spent staring at your phone, finger hovering over Yunho's name, praying he would call first, made your chest ache.

"You threw it all away because you were afraid of losing it," Mingi continued, his voice gentle but firm. "But look at what happened - you lost it anyway. The very thing you were trying to prevent... you made it happen."

You let out a shaky breath, your hands trembling as you wiped away fresh tears. The truth in his words carved deeper than any knife - you'd orchestrated your own heartbreak, conducted this symphony of pain with the precision of someone determined to suffer. Your gaze dropped to your lap, unable to meet his eyes as the weight of your self-fulfilling prophecy crushed what remained of your resolve.

"Just..." Mingi paused, running his hand through his hair with visible frustration. "Don't try to get him back. I'm for real. Not right now, when he's this broken. He needs time to heal, and so do you. If you really love him, give him that at least."

You knew he was right. The image of Yunho in the hospital, of his bandaged hands, was enough to make you understand the gravity of what you'd done.

"Y/N," Mingi started, his voice heavy with resignation. "I know you're hurting too, but I can't be in the middle of this right now. All I ask is that you get your things while he's staying with me. Give him space to heal."

"But I still need him," you whispered, voice cracking. "I know what I did was wrong, but I never wanted this to happen."

"Please," Mingi said firmly, raising his hand. His eyes held a mixture of concern and exhaustion. "I can't hear this right now. Not when he's in the hospital because—" He stopped himself, shaking his head. "Just do what I asked, okay?"

"Could you at least tell him that I—"

"No," he cut you off as he got up from the chair, already moving towards the door. "I won't carry messages between you two. That's not fair to anyone."

He paused at the doorway, his tall frame casting a long shadow across your floor. "Take care of yourself, alright?" The gentleness in his voice only made your chest ache more. With that, he left, the gentle click of the door somehow worse than San's earlier slam.

You stared at the food he'd brought, but your appetite had completely vanished. After a few half-hearted attempts to eat, you pushed the containers away. Your eyes landed on your phone, still face-down on the coffee table. The thought of going to collect your things from the apartment made your stomach churn, but Mingi was right – it needed to be done.

Maybe it was better to do it now, while everything still felt numb. You grabbed your keys and jacket, leaving the uneaten food on the table. Each step towards your car felt like walking through quicksand, but you forced yourself to keep moving. The sooner you did this, the sooner everyone could start healing – even if that meant healing without you.

The apartment key felt impossibly heavy in your hand as you stood before the familiar door. Taking a deep breath, you pushed it open, and immediately the scent of him - that unique blend of his cologne and just... him - hit you like a physical force.

Your eyes landed on the entryway, where you'd both stumbled through that very first night, drunk on love and anticipation. You remembered how he'd pressed you against that wall, his lips trailing fire down your neck as you'd giggled, both of you nearly tripping over the moving boxes that still littered the floor. "Welcome home," he'd whispered against your skin, and you'd never felt more certain about anything in your life.

Moving to the bedroom was like walking through a minefield of memories. The bed where you'd spent countless nights tangled in each other's arms. That first night, when his touches had been so gentle, so reverent as if he couldn't believe you were real. The way he'd worshipped every inch of your body, whispering promises against your skin until you were both breathless and trembling.

With shaking hands, you began pulling your remaining clothes from the closet. Each item held a memory - the sweater you'd worn on your first date, the dress from that summer party where he couldn't keep his eyes off you. His hoodies that you'd claimed as your own still smelled like him, and you found yourself pressing one to your face, inhaling deeply as tears started falling.

The bathroom was worse. Your toothbrush still stood next to his in that ridiculous holder he'd insisted on buying because it looked like a tiny robot. The sight of the broken mirror made your stomach lurch - you could almost see the scene Mingi had described, the sound of shattering glass echoing in your mind. Mechanically, you gathered your cosmetics, your favorite shampoo, the face masks he'd always tease you about but secretly loved using himself.

Back in the bedroom, you faced the wall of polaroids - a chronicle of your relationship. There you both were, beaming at the camera on a moving day, surrounded by boxes. Another showed you both covered in paint after attempting to DIY the living room walls. So many captured kisses, lazy Sunday mornings, and surprise back hugs. Your fingers traced the edge of one particular photo - both of you tangled in sheets, your hair a mess, his lips pressed to your temple. He'd insisted on capturing that moment, said he wanted to remember exactly how beautiful you looked in the morning light.

The gifts were the hardest. The plush bear he'd won at that carnival, even though he'd spent way too much money trying. The bracelet from your first anniversary, engraved with the date you met. That silly coffee mug with your inside joke printed on it. Each item felt like it was burning your fingers as you packed it away, each one a reminder of promises you'd broken.

You found yourself sitting on the edge of the bed - your bed, his bed, the bed that had been yours together - clutching your favorite pillow to your chest. The one he'd always steal because he said it smelled like you. A sob escaped your throat as you remembered how he'd wrap himself around you every night, one arm always protectively draped over your waist, his breath warm against your neck.

"I'm sorry," you whispered to the empty room, your voice breaking. "I'm so sorry." But the walls that had witnessed so many of your loving moments now only echoed back your solitary grief.

With trembling hands, you zipped up the last bag. The apartment looked wrong now - half-empty, just like your heart. You took one final look around, memories flooding your mind: the kitchen where you'd attempted to teach him to cook (and failed miserably), the living room where you'd slow-danced at midnight, the balcony where you'd planned your future together.

You decided to clean up one last time, starting with the kitchen. The dishes had piled up - he'd always been terrible at keeping up with them when stressed. Your hands moved mechanically through the motions of washing, drying, and putting away. Each clink of plates being stacked felt too loud in the empty space.

The bathroom was next. Glass fragments still littered the tiles, some pieces stained with what you knew must be his blood. Your hands shook as you swept them up, imagining his pain, his desperation. The mirror's absence left a gaping void on the wall, much like the one in your chest.

It was late evening by the time you finished. The apartment gleamed with a sterile emptiness that felt wrong - too clean, too neat, like trying to erase all traces of the mess you'd made of things. You were about to leave when you heard it - Yunho’s voice behind the door.

"Mingi, I know you said you'd pick me up, but I just couldn't stay there anymore," Yunho's muffled voice came through the door, followed by a frustrated sigh. "The nurses were driving me crazy with all their—why are you freaking out? What's wrong?"

Click.

Your heart stopped. You knew that sound, knew the slight hesitation that always came before he'd push the door open. The handle turned, and there he was.

Yunho stood frozen in the doorway, his bandaged hand still on the handle. He looked terrible - pale, with dark circles under his eyes that spoke of sleepless nights. The hospital bracelet was still around his wrist.

"I'm gonna call you back," Yunho said shakily into the phone, his eyes never leaving yours. His bandaged hand trembled as he ended the call, letting the phone drop to his side.

For a moment, neither of you moved. The air felt thick with all the things you wanted to say, all the apologies stuck in your throat. His eyes moved from you to the packed bags by the door, and then to the spotless apartment behind you.

"What are you doing here?" Yunho asked, his voice hoarse and tired.

"Mingi told me you'd be staying at his place, so I..." you started with a trembling voice, gesturing weakly at the packed bags. "I wanted to grab my things."

"I..." your voice cracked. "I was just leaving. I cleaned up... I thought..." The words died on your tongue as his gaze finally met yours. The pain in his eyes made you want to reach for him, but you knew you'd lost that right.

And then the tears came for what seemed to be the hundredth time today, hot and relentless, streaming down your face as you stood there, unable to look away from him. Your shoulders shook with silent sobs, each one carrying the weight of everything you'd lost, everything you'd broken.

"I'm sorry," you managed to whisper, though the words felt painfully inadequate in the face of his bandaged hands and haunted eyes. "I'm so, so sorry."

He moved then, crossing the space between you in two long strides. Before you could process what was happening, his arms were around you, pulling you against his chest with a gentleness that broke your heart all over again. You melted into his embrace, your tears soaking into his shirt as your fingers clutched desperately at the fabric.

"Shh," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion as he began to sway slightly, rocking you both from side to side in a gentle, soothing motion. The familiar rhythm only made you cry harder, remembering all the times he'd held you just like this – after bad days, during celebrations, or simply because he wanted to be close to you.

Your body felt impossibly small in his arms, defeated and drained. The guilt was crushing, made worse by the tenderness of his touch. Even now, even after everything you'd done, he was still trying to comfort you. His bandaged hand smoothed over your hair, and you could feel the slight tremor in his movements.

"I don't deserve this," you whispered against his chest, your voice breaking. "I don't deserve you being kind to me."

"Don't," he murmured, his grip tightening slightly. "Just... let me hold you. Please. Just for a moment."

The quiet desperation in his voice shattered what was left of your composure. You pressed closer, breathing in his scent, memorizing the feeling of being in his arms one last time. His heart beat steadily under your ear, a rhythm you'd fallen asleep to countless times before. Now each beat felt like a countdown to goodbye.

He continued to sway, the motion almost hypnotic, as if he could make time stand still if he just kept you both moving. His chin rested on top of your head, and you could feel the slight dampness of his own tears falling into your hair.

"I'm sorry," you whispered again, the words muffled against his chest. "I'm so sorry, it's all my fault."

His only response was to hold you tighter, his breathing uneven as he fought back his own emotions. The bandages on his hands scraped lightly against your back, a physical reminder of the pain you'd caused. Yet here he was, still trying to comfort you, still being the incredible person you'd fallen in love with – the person you'd hurt so deeply.

Time seemed to lose all meaning as you stood there in his arms, both of you silently crying, swaying together in the apartment that had once been your home.

"I love you," Yunho whispered against your hair, his voice barely audible. His lips pressed softly against the top of your head, the gesture achingly tender. The words hung in the air between you, making your heart constrict painfully in your chest. Those three words that had once been a promise of forever now felt like a farewell.

You felt him take a shuddering breath, his chest rising and falling against you. His fingers tightened in the fabric of your shirt for just a moment, as if fighting the urge to never let go. Then, slowly, deliberately, his arms loosened their hold. The loss of his warmth was immediate and devastating, leaving you feeling colder than you'd ever been.

"I love you too," you whispered back, your voice breaking on each word. The truth of it burned in your chest - you did love him, desperately, completely, even now.

Yunho's breath hitched, and you felt him stiffen slightly. His hands, which had been resting loosely at his sides, clenched into fists, the bandages crinkling with the movement. When he spoke, his voice was barely above a whisper, rough with emotion.

"All of it," he started, then had to pause, swallowing hard. "Everything we built, everything we dreamed about... it all just went to waste, didn't it?" The words seemed to physically pain him as they left his lips, each one carrying the weight of a thousand shattered promises.

You watched as he ran his bandaged hand through his hair, a gesture so achingly familiar it made your heart constrict. His eyes, when they met yours, were filled with a devastating mixture of love and resignation. "All those nights planning our future, all those promises we made... they just turned to dust. And the worst part?" He let out a broken laugh that sounded more like a sob. "The worst part is that I still wouldn't change a single moment of it. Not one second of loving you."

The silence that followed was deafening, filled with all the things you both wanted to say but couldn't. The space between you felt like an ocean now, vast and impossible to cross, even though you could still feel the ghost of his warmth on your skin.

"I love you," he said again, his voice cracking, "but I need you to leave now."

"Please," you choked out, reaching for him instinctively. "Please, Yunho, we can fix this. We can try again. I'll do anything—"

He took a step back, keeping himself just out of your reach. The movement, though small, felt like a physical blow. "Don't," he whispered, his bandaged hand coming up as if to shield himself. "It all went to waste the second you walked out that door. You made your choice."

"I was wrong," you pleaded, tears streaming down your face. "I was so wrong. Please, just give me one more chance—"

"Stop." His voice was firm now, despite the tears in his eyes. "You need to go. I can't... I can't do this. Not now. Not anymore."

Each word felt like a knife to your heart, but you could see the resolution in his eyes, even through his pain. This was it. This was really the end. Yunho turned away, his shoulders tense, but as your first sob broke through the silence, he froze. Your crying was raw and uncontrollable now, each breath coming as a painful gasp, your whole body shaking with the force of it. The sound seemed to fill every corner of the space, bouncing off the bare walls, making the emptiness feel even more profound.

"You know what?" Yunho suddenly spun around, his voice rising with a surge of anger that seemed to fill the entire room. His eyes, usually so warm and gentle, now blazed with an intensity that made you take a step back. "Fuck this! Fuck all of this! You don't get to stand there crying like you're the victim here, like you weren't the one who made this choice!"

"I'm not—" you started, your voice small and trembling, but he cut you off with a sharp gesture that made you flinch.

"You LEFT!" he shouted, "You walked out that fucking door without even looking back! Do you know what that did to me? Do you have any idea what it feels like to watch the person you love, the person you built your whole world around, just... just throw everything away like it meant nothing? Like every moment we shared was fucking worthless?"

"It meant EVERYTHING!" you screamed back, your own anger finally breaking through the surface like a dam bursting. Your hands were shaking as you gestured wildly between you. "That's why I left! I was terrified of how much I needed you, how much power you had over me! I couldn't breathe without thinking about you! Every moment of every day was consumed by thoughts of you, and it terrified me!"

"So you decided to stop breathing altogether?" His laugh was bitter and hollow, tears streaming down his face and catching on his trembling lips. "Great fucking solution! Really stellar thinking there!"

"I was scared!" Your voice cracked, splintering like glass. "I still am! I'm scared because I love you so much it hurts, and I don't know how to handle that! It's like drowning and flying all at once, and I'm terrified of what that means!"

"And I'm not scared?" He stepped closer, his eyes blazing with a mixture of fury and desperation. The space between you crackled with tension. "You think I'm not terrified every single day? But I stayed! I fought for us! I faced that fear head-on because what we had was worth fighting for! While you... you just ran. You took the easiest fucking way out and left me."

The silence that followed was deafening, and oppressive, both of you breathing heavily, tears mingling with anger and exhaustion. The air between you felt thick with unspoken words and shattered promises. When Yunho spoke again, his voice was softer, broken, like shards of glass wrapped in velvet.

"The worst part is..." he paused, running his bandaged hand through his hair in that achingly familiar gesture, "I still want to hold you. Even now, even after everything... even after you broke my heart into a thousand pieces, I still want to make it all better. How fucked up is that? How pathetic am I?"

You took a shaky step forward, your hands trembling like leaves in a storm. "Then do it," you challenged, "Hold me. Make it better. Because I'm not going to fucking pretend I don't want the same thing."

"Don't you dare," he growled, but he was already moving closer, his bandaged hands clenching and unclenching at his sides, betraying his internal struggle. "Don't you fucking dare make me want this when I should be hating you. When everything in me is screaming to push you away."

"But you don't hate me," you whispered, now close enough to feel his ragged breath fan across your face, to see the golden flecks in his tear-filled eyes. "You can't hate me any more than I can hate you."

"I fucking wish I could," he choked out, and then his hands were in your hair, fingers tangling in the strands as he pulled you roughly against him. His lips crashed into yours with the force of a breaking wave, the kiss desperate, angry, messy with tears and need. His bandaged fingers dug into your scalp as you grabbed fistfuls of his shirt, pulling him impossibly closer, trying to eliminate any space between your bodies.

"I hate that I still love you," he gasped against your mouth between brutal, punishing kisses that felt more like warfare than affection. "I hate that I can't stop, that I don't want to stop. That you have this power over me."

"Then don't stop," you breathed, tasting the salt of both your tears as he kissed you again, harder this time, backing you up against the wall with enough force to knock the breath from your lungs. His hands were rough against your skin as he yanked your shirt up, you helped him pull it off, then immediately went for his, desperate to feel his skin against yours. His chest was heaving, muscles taut with tension as your fingers traced over them.

"I shouldn't want this," he growled against your neck, biting down hard enough to make you gasp, to ensure you'd carry the mark of this moment for days to come. "I shouldn't still want you this much. It's destroying me."

"But you do," you challenged, your nails dragging down his back, "You want me as much as I want you. As much as we've always wanted each other."

He responded by lifting you up, pinning you harder against the wall, his strength both frightening and thrilling. Your legs wrapped around his waist instinctively, drawing a deep groan from him that vibrated against your collarbone. "You don't get to fucking tell me what I want," he said, but his hands were already working at your jeans, his movements frantic and needy, betraying his words.

"Then show me," you gasped as his fingers found bare skin, sending electricity coursing through your veins. "Show me what you want, Yunho. Make me understand." The sound of his name seemed to break something fundamental in him, some last barrier of resistance. He crushed his mouth to yours again, the kiss all teeth and tongue and desperate need. You could taste the anger on his lips, the hurt, and the want all mixed together into something explosive, dangerous, and necessary.

"I hate this," he panted between kisses that felt like drowning, even as his hands roamed your body with familiar hunger, mapping every curve and hollow. "I hate that no one else feels like you do. That no one else ever could."

"I know," you whispered, helping him take off your bra, both of you too far gone to care about anything but this moment, this need. "I know, I hate it too. I hate that you're the only one who makes me feel alive."

The wall was cold against your naked back, a sharp contrast to the burning heat of his skin. His bandaged hands gripped your thighs almost painfully tight as he pressed closer, leaving no space between your bodies, no room for doubt or regret.

"Tell me to stop," he demanded, his voice rough with need, with all the things left unsaid between you. "Tell me this is a mistake. Tell me we shouldn't be doing this."

Instead, you pulled him closer, your lips finding his ear, breath hot against his skin. "Never," you breathed, feeling him shudder against you, his control finally shattering completely. "I never want you to stop. Not now, not ever."

Your hands trembled as you unzipped his pants, feeling his hardness straining against the fabric. He let out a deep moan that sent shivers down your spine as you pulled his jeans down, your fingers ghosting over his thighs.

"Fuck, we can't be doing this," he said as his hands found the delicate lace of your panties, the last barrier between you. His fingers hooked into the waistband, pulling them down with agonizing slowness until they fell forgotten to the floor. His hands returned to grip your hips with bruising force, the roughness of the bandages a stark reminder of everything between you as he pressed you harder against the cold wall. His breath came in hot, ragged pants against your neck. You were both trembling, poised on the edge of something dangerous and inevitable. The tension between you was electric, charged with equal parts anger and desire. When he finally moved, it was with a force that made you cry out, your nails digging crescents into his shoulders as he buried himself inside you in one swift, brutal motion.

"You shouldn't have fucking left," he growled between harsh, desperate thrusts, each word punctuated by the raw sound of skin against skin, his voice thick with anger and longing. "You had no right to just walk away like everything we built meant nothing."

"And you had no right to give up on us so easily," you shot back, your voice breaking into a breathless moan as he hit a particularly sensitive spot that made stars explode behind your eyes. Your fingers tangled roughly in his hair, pulling hard enough to make him hiss through clenched teeth. "You could have fought harder, could have shown me it was worth staying for."

"Fought harder?" His laugh was bitter and hollow as his pace increased to something almost punishing, "You're the one who ran away the moment things got too real!"

"Because you were suffocating me," you gasped, arching against him as pleasure and pain mingled indistinguishably in your veins like a drug. "You wanted to have all of me, every single piece of my soul until I couldn't even tell where I ended and you began."

"And you didn't want exactly the same thing?" His hand gripped your jaw with bruising intensity, forcing you to look directly into his eyes that burned with raw emotion as he continued his relentless rhythm. "Don't you dare lie to me. Not now. Not when I can feel how desperately you need this, need me."

You tried to shake your head, but his grip only tightened, his thumb pressing against your lower lip as tears spilled down your cheeks. "I wanted everything with you," you admitted, your voice breaking.

"And I wanted to give you everything," he snarled, his hips snapping against yours with bruising force. "Every fucking piece of me was yours, and you threw it away like it meant nothing!"

Your response was cut off by a particularly deep thrust that had you seeing stars, your nails raking down his sweat-slicked back hard enough to leave marks. "Fuck, Yunho," you gasped, your head falling back against the wall with a thud.

"Say it again," he demanded, his voice rough and raw as he bit down hard on your shoulder. "Say my fucking name like you mean it."

"Yunho," you moaned, tugging sharply at his hair, forcing his head back so you could crash your lips against his in a kiss that was more teeth than tenderness. The metallic taste of blood mingled between you as his lip split under the force of your bite.

"I fucking hate how much I still want you," he growled against your mouth, his pace becoming erratic, desperate. His bandaged hands gripped your thighs so hard you knew they'd leave bruises, marking you as his even now. "How much I still need you, even after everything."

You could feel yourself approaching the edge, every nerve ending on fire as he drove into you relentlessly. "Then make me feel it," you challenged, your voice breaking on his hard, sharp thrust. "Make me remember why I was so fucking scared of how much I loved you."

He responded by shifting his angle, hitting that spot inside you that made your vision blur, "Is this what you wanted?" he panted, sweat dripping from his forehead onto your chest. "To reduce us to this? Just fucking against a wall like we're nothing more than this?"

"We were never nothing," you gasped, feeling the tension building to an unbearable level. "We were everything - fuck, Yunho, I'm so close..."

"Then come for me," he demanded, his voice wrecked and desperate. "Show me how much you fucking need this. Need me." His words pushed you over the edge, your body arching off the wall as waves of your orgasm crashed through you, his name a broken cry on your lips. He followed moments later, his grip bruising as he buried his face in your neck, his whole body shuddering with the force of his release. For a long moment, there was nothing but the sound of your ragged breathing and the thundering of your hearts, the anger between you temporarily drowned.

Slowly, you both slid to the floor, limbs still tangled together, neither wanting to be the first to let go. The wall was cold against your back, but his body was warm, his breath evening out against your skin.

The silence shattered as suddenly as it had descended. "This was a fucking mistake," Yunho spat, pushing away from you with such force that you nearly fell over. "Just like everything else between us."

"A mistake?" You laughed bitterly, scrambling to your feet. "That's rich coming from you. You weren't calling it a mistake when you were fucking me against the wall two minutes ago."

"You know what the worst part is?" you said, voice cracking as you stood there half-dressed and trembling. "I still love you. Even now, even after everything, I love you so much it's killing me."

"Don't," Yunho warned, but his voice was unsteady. "Don't you dare say that now."

"Why not? Because it's true?" You took a step toward him, watching his chest rise and fall with rapid breaths. "Because you feel it too? This thing between us that won't die no matter how hard we try to kill it?"

"Love doesn't destroy people like this. Love doesn't leave you bleeding out on your bathroom floor at 3 AM because you can't stand the silence anymore."

"Oh, but that's exactly what it does when it's real," you whispered, reaching out to touch his face. He jerked away like your touch burned. "When it's so deep it becomes part of your DNA. When losing it feels like losing a vital organ."

His eyes were glassy with unshed tears as he grabbed your wrist, his grip painfully tight. "Then maybe we were wrong to ever let it get this far. Maybe we should have known better than to let ourselves become this—this fucking catastrophe." His voice cracked as he raised his bandaged hands, forcing you to see them clearly. "Look at this. Look what you did to me! I've been miserable since the day you left." He yanked a cigarette from his pocket, lighting it with trembling fingers.

"Put that out," you snapped, watching him take a long drag. "When did you start smoking again?"

Yunho deliberately blew a cloud of smoke directly into your face, making you cough. "I started again the night you left. Needed something to fill the void you left behind."

"Don't you dare blame your self-destructive habits on me," you snarled, waving away the smoke. "Those bandages? That's all you. The smoking? That's you too. Stop making me your fucking scapegoat!"

"Self-destructive?" He took another drag, eyes never leaving yours. "You want to talk about destruction? You destroyed everything we built. These hands? They haven't stopped shaking since you walked out that door. I can barely hold my fucking keys without trembling. But you don't care about that, do you? You never cared about anything but yourself."

"You really want to do this?" you asked, voice trembling with barely contained rage. "Fine. Do you want to know what I care about? I care that you're destroying yourself and blaming me for it. I care that you're using me as an excuse to spiral instead of dealing with your own issues."

"Get out," he growled, voice dangerously low.

"Are you sure?" you taunted, your voice dripping with venom. "Once I leave, who will you fuck against the wall again?"

"Don't you even dare throw this in my face now!" Yunho screamed. The veins in his neck stood out prominently as he advanced toward you, trembling with barely contained fury. "Get the fuck out before I say something we'll both regret.”

"More regrets?" You laughed hysterically as you yanked your shirt over your head. "Add it to the fucking list, Yunho. Right next to ever believing we could make this work!"

"You want to talk about beliefs?" He advanced on you, cigarette dangling from his lips, eyes wild. "I believed every fucking promise you made. Every 'I love you,' every 'forever.' What a goddamn joke. You're nothing but a coward who runs the moment things get real."

"And you're nothing but a controlling asshole who can't handle not having everything your way!" You struggled with your jeans, hands shaking with rage. "You say I run? You pushed me away long before I ever left!"

"Get. The. Fuck. Out." Each word was punctuated by him throwing something - your shoes, your jacket, your keys. "I'm done with your bullshit excuses. I'm done with your lies. I'm done with YOU."

"Fuck you, Yunho," you spat, gathering your remaining belongings, dodging the cloud of smoke he blew in your direction. "Fuck you and your self-righteous bullshit. You want me gone? Fine. But remember - you're the one kicking me out this time. You don't get to play the victim anymore." With trembling hands, you picked up your bags. Your feet felt heavy as lead as you walked towards the door, each step taking you further away from the life you'd built together.

His laugh was ugly, and bitter as he stubbed out the cigarette against the wall. "The victim? That's rich coming from someone who's made an art form out of playing the martyr. Go on, run away again. It's what you're best at, isn't it?"

"DON'T SAY I'M RUNNING AWAY WHEN IT'S YOU THROWING ME OUT!" you screamed, your voice cracking with raw emotion. "You don't get to rewrite this narrative. You're the one telling me to leave, you're the one pushing me away, and you have the audacity to call ME a coward?"

His eyes flashed dangerously as he stalked towards you, closing the distance between you in three long strides. His hand shot out, fingers gripping your chin roughly as he forced you to meet his blazing gaze. "A coward? No, sweetheart, a coward wouldn't have the guts to destroy someone so thoroughly and then act like they're the victim. You're something much worse - you're a fucking hurricane that leaves nothing but devastation in your wake."

You ripped your chin from his grasp, stumbling backward. "Then I guess we're both disasters," you hissed, tears finally spilling over. "Because you're not exactly leaving survivors in your path either."

The silence between you stretched taut, electric with accusations and raw pain. Your hand found the doorknob, gripping it like a lifeline as you fought the urge to turn back, to see if his expression matched the brokenness in his voice. But you knew better - one look back and you might crumble, might forget all the reasons why this toxic dance needed to end.

"You know what?" Your voice came out steadier than you felt, even as your heart threatened to shatter into a million jagged pieces in your chest, each shard cutting deeper than the last. "You were right about one thing. This was a mistake. All of it. Every stolen moment, every whispered promise. But at least I can admit my mistakes instead of drowning them in nicotine and self-pity like you've been doing."

"And what about you?" he shot back, voice raw and bleeding with emotion. "Drowning yourself in righteous anger and pretending you're better than me because you can 'admit your mistakes'? At least I'm honest about my demons."

"At least I'm trying!" Your voice cracked like thin ice, hands trembling violently as you gripped the doorknob tighter, knuckles turning white from the force. "At least I'm not standing here pretending that smoking and fucking will somehow magically fix what’s broken!"

"Nothing can fix what's broken between us," he said, suddenly sounding exhausted, like all the fight had drained from his body at once. "We made sure of that, didn't we?"

You turned to face him one last time, your vision swimming with unshed tears that refused to fall. "How did we get here, Yunho? How did we go from 'forever' to this?"

"I don't know," he whispered, running a shaking hand through his disheveled hair, eyes haunted with memories of better days. "I don't fucking know anymore. All I know is that I can't breathe when you're here, and I can't breathe when you're gone."

"Then maybe we're just poison to each other now." Your hand remained frozen on the door handle, caught between staying and leaving, between love and self-preservation. "Maybe we loved too hard, too fast, and burned ourselves out."

"Love?" He laughed bitterly, lighting another cigarette with trembling fingers, "Is that what you call this endless cycle of hurting each other?"

"You know it is," you said softly, your words barely a whisper in the heavy air between you. "That's why it hurts so much. Because underneath all this anger, all this pain, all these scars we've carved into each other... I still love you. And I hate myself for it. I hate that even now, standing in the wreckage of us, my heart still beats your name."

He took a long, deliberate drag, the ember of his cigarette glowing brightly. "Just go," he said finally, his voice thick with emotions he couldn't quite suppress. "Before we destroy whatever's left of each other."

This time, you didn't argue. You pulled the door open with shaking hands, the cold air hitting your tear-stained face. "Goodbye, Yunho," you whispered, the words tasting like farewell and forever on your tongue as you stepped out into the hallway.

Behind you, you heard a muffled thud - the sound of him sliding down against the door, followed by a quiet, broken sob. Your legs gave out, and you collapsed against the wall, your bags scattered around you like the pieces of your shattered relationship. You wanted to scream, to run back, to break down that door and hold him until all the pain went away. But you couldn't move, couldn't breathe, couldn't do anything but press your hand against your mouth to muffle the sound of your own cry.

Through the door, you could hear him crying, the sound growing more desperate, more raw. The thud of his fist against the floor, followed by a choked "Why?" that felt like it was being ripped from his very soul. You'd never heard him sound so destroyed, so utterly broken, and knowing you were the cause made you physically sick.

You don't know how long you both stayed there, separated by nothing but a door, both falling apart in perfect, painful synchronicity. When his sobs finally quieted, the silence that followed was somehow even worse - empty, final, dead.

Eventually, you forced yourself to stand on shaking legs, gathering your scattered belongings. Each step away from his door felt like walking on broken glass, leaving a trail of invisible blood and regret.

The elevator ride down was a blur, each floor taking you further from the life you'd shared. As you stepped out into the cold night air the city lights blurred through your tears, a kaleidoscope of colors that seemed to mock the darkness consuming your heart.

♡│if you enjoy my writing please consider supporting me by tagging and reblogging│

[poseidonsworst]

I also lost my cat of 13 years in October.

His name was Larry. My big silly boy was with me through my years long mental health crisis in high school, my recovery through that the first year of college, and the decline of my physical health during the rest. Him and Lady Macbeth were such important constant friends through all of that. I often credit them with saving my life a few times while my mental health was at it's lowest. Even if they were more Disservice Animals than they were service animals once my physical health started to go.

He was such a silly, ridiculous cat. I didn't take near enough pictures of him, but it was still hard to choose which ones to put here.

He used to play fetch with hair ties and rubber bands, and his favorite places to be were either snuggled up with Lady or on his favorite blanket in my lap (pulling out my head phone cable or messing with my keyboard!!)

He was obsessed with yogurt and sitting on top of fridges. And when my chronic pain made me too squirmy to be a comfortable lap, he'd squish himself onto this rickety old kitten-sized cat tree just to be near me. It was way to small for him, and wobbled whenever he shifted. It honestly took a lot longer for it to break under his big ass than I thought it would, but he still hung out there.

About a year and a half ago I developed MCAS, which is basically Allergic To Everything Disorder, and what was previously a minor cat allergy escalated to the point where I couldn't breathe if my babies were in the same room as me. I had to go send them to live with my parents, and it was several months into that time when Larry was diagnosed with jaw cancer.

The chances of him pulling through were to slim to put him through all the surgery and chemo treatment would entail, so I decided that allergies be damned I was gonna spend as much time with him as I could.

I got about a week.

The vet told me I'd know when it was time, and that time came when he'd only eat if I hand fed him. He crawled up on my chest, looked at me, and started pawing at his face like he was asking me to do something about it. He was already on a lot of pain meds, so the best thing I could do for him was let go.

During that last week he still curled up on my lap on his favorite blanket, and ambled after some rubber bands I shot across the room. I made an appointment for a specialty vet come to my house so he could be comfortable and I could hold him as he went.

Despite that, I managed to put off grieving him because I'd already mourned having to send them to live away from me. This post is what I finally needed to pull his ashes out of the closet and finally properly welcome him home, so he can sit on my lap on his favorite blanket.

Thank you Larry for being my best friend through so much, I'll always love you my big stinky man.

Lyra, my beloved cat of 13 years, passed away this year on Father's Day. She's been by my side through very difficult times and was my little rock of steady and unrelenting love. I struggled a lot drawing this, and struggled a lot posting it, but I know I would've wanted to read a comic like this that validated my grief for her when I lost her.

Wherever you are, Lyra my little summer star, I love you always! Thank you for being the best thing in my life.

[wheeboo]

paging dr. heartthrob | lee chan {TEASER}

SYNOPSIS. You can’t afford to be burnt out, especially during a crucial era of your life: being in medical school. Enter your best friend—a boy with a tough-looking exterior, a skateboard that’s seen better days, and a heart softer than his beat-up converse—Lee Chan, with his backpack full of snacks, and an uncanny ability to show up exactly when you need him most. He may not be a doctor, nor exactly your therapist, but he certainly is a heartthrob, and your heart can’t help but always page him. PAIRING. skater boy!lee chan x med student!reader (ft. lowkey stoner!vernon, med student!jeonghan, med student!joshua, soonyoung) GENRE. fluff, childhood best friends to lovers, angst, suggestive, hurt/comfort, college au WARNINGS (FOR THE TEASER). swearing, vaping and mention of weed, just silly banter between two "best friends" <3 WARNINGS (FOR FULL FIC). swearing, food and drinking mentions, suggestive, drug use (weed & vaping), so much fucking mutual pining!!!, reader is quite literally me so self-indulgent maybe?, reader is an overthinking anxious burnt-out mess :((, chan has a mullet, piercings, and tattoos yes (re: cough attacca dino cough), chan is a self-critical perfectionist oof, vague descriptions of minor injuries, mental health topics, medical terminology language, a scene of a panic attack WORD COUNT (FOR THE TEASER). 1.3k WORD COUNT (FOR FULL FIC). approx 20-25k

notes: hello, my little flowers! this is my teaser for the @camandemstudios "the lonely heart's cafe" collab <3. I'VE BEEN BLESSED TO FINALLY WRITE FOR LEE CHAN‼️if you would like to be tagged when this fic comes out, please send an ask or comment down below! sign up for the taglist for the entire collab here! please send all your love to the other authors who are participating in this as well !!

“You’re late,” he calls out, kicking the skateboard up into his hands and jogging over to meet you.

You roll your eyes but can’t help the small smile tugging at your lips. “Blame my neuro attending. That man has the stamina of a marathon runner and the patience of a saint. Could rival Derek Shepherd, to be honest. I think I aged ten years today.” You set your bag down on the floor next to a nearby bench. “You didn’t wait long, did you?”

“Nah, not that long. You actually came before Vernon𑁋he left his vape here,” Chan says while fishing the vape out of his pocket and taking a shameless hit from it, a cloud of vapour floating into the air when he exhales, before offering it to you with a teasing grin. “Want a hit?”

You scrunch your nose, shaking your head with a laugh. “Offering me, a med student, that shit is crazy. My lungs are precious thank you, unlike you and Vernon.”

“Tell that to those bozos.” He points to the noisy teenagers at the other side of the park, before sitting right next to you on the bench. “Can’t even roll over there without getting smacked in the face with weed.”

Your smile falters just slightly as you watch him lean back, his face tilting towards the darkening sky. The dim light of the streetlamps catches on the curve of his jaw, the slope of his nose, the relaxed purse of his lips, and highlights the dragon tattoo that snakes up his arm. He looks... peaceful. Content. Like the world isn’t asking too much from him tonight, like there’s no weight of expectations pressing on his shoulders, unlike you.

“I messed up today during clinicals,” You randomly confess, making Chan turn toward you. “There was this patient today… a girl. Seventeen years old, has a tumour that’s basically about to split her brain in half. I kept arguing with my attending about treatments, and I was so sure I was right𑁋that we could do something more about it𑁋but in the end, I just... made it worse. I felt like such an idiot, because… because there wasn’t anything we could do. She only has one chance with surgery, and she took it, despite her low chances of surviving.”

Chan listens to you, his eyes gentle and thoughtful, understanding but not pitying. It’s the same way he used to listen when you were venting back in high school, always patient, never rushing you to fix yourself or your emotions.

“You’re not an idiot,” he tells you, but his tone is nothing like a scold. “You care. That’s the difference. Not everyone would have fought that hard for her, even if you didn’t win. You’ve got a heart the size of the ocean, dude, you know?” 

You smile faintly, chest tightening a little to his words. “The mother-fucking ocean?”

Chan grins at your lightheartedness, nudging you with his elbow. “Yeah, the mother-fucking ocean. You’re stubborn as hell, but you’ve got that heart. And that’s what makes you good at what you do. It’s what makes you you.”

You look down almost in guilt from his words, watching as you unconsciously play with your fingers in your lap. You don’t know why, but it hits harder than usual tonight, and for the briefest moment, you feel the rush of everything you’ve been holding back𑁋the exhaustion, the frustration, the feeling that you’ve been carrying more than your fair share of weight these days. They almost threaten to burst out of you, but right now, they don’t. Not yet at least.

“You’re gonna be a good doctor, you know?” Chan continues. “I don’t even have to be a doctor to know that. You just… you get it. You’re going to go out there and do great things. Maybe even better things than me.”

You almost want to laugh at that, almost want to tell Chan just how much shit he’s done that is far greater than what you could ever dream of. You’re not sure if he realises it himself𑁋how great he is, how much you admire him, love him𑁋but you think you could spend more than a lifetime telling him just that if you could. 

You feel your heart do that familiar flip again, but this time, you let it pass. Maybe you’ve been avoiding these feelings for too long, but the truth is, they’ve been there for as long as you can remember. You can’t exactly pinpoint the moment these feelings shifted from friendship to something more𑁋maybe it was when he helped you get through the first few years of high school, or when he held your hand during a school dance, not in some romantic gesture but because you were scared of your anxiety acting up𑁋but it’s always been there. He’s always been there. 

“I… Thank you, Chan,” You say softly. Then you tilt your head back, looking at the same sky he is, feeling the heaviness in your chest ease just a little. “You’re kind of annoying, you know that? But you’re also... you’re really great yourself. Like, better-than-I-deserve great.”

Chan just chuckles at that. He leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees, turning his head slightly to look at you. “That’s probably the dumbest thing you’ve ever said, and I’ve heard a lot of dumb shit from you.”

“Wow, okay. Forget all that I said then,” You retort back playfully, shaking your head and crossing your arms together. “You’re the worst person alive, actually.”

When you’re busy gazing up at the sky above, Chan turns to you. His eyes flit over you, taking in the way your eyelashes slowly bat together from tiredness, how your lips are slightly curled up in relaxation, how your features glow from the singular street lamp illuminating the skate park. He doesn’t say anything for a moment, and glances away, his thoughts racing faster than he can keep up with.

“You meant it though, right?” he asks.

“What?” You question, turning towards him. 

“About me being great or whatever.” You can tell he’s trying to brush off the hesitation, but you sense the uncertainty in his voice. “You meant it?”

Out of all times, you wonder why he’s questioning it right now at almost midnight in the middle of the skate park. You’ve told him countless times how great he is, always hyping him up for skate competitions and giving him comfort on the times he’s down himself. Why… is he suddenly asking if you meant it?

“Well, I… Of course, I meant it,” You respond, catching his eye. “Why wouldn’t I?”

For a few moments, there’s just silence, comfortable, a pinch of awkward𑁋a word you can pretty much never associate with your interactions together𑁋yet heavy. The way Chan’s features soften on his face from your words seem more important than the stars blinking up in the sky right now. 

Then all it takes is a tiny giggle from him, and you can’t help but groan.

“Oh no,” You grumble pesteringly, shooting him an exasperated glance, but your tone is light, teasing. “I fueled your ego now, didn’t I?” 

“Yep. I can walk around like I’m the best thing since sliced bread,” Chan jokes, puffing out his chest with pride. “My greatness has been confirmed by a certified medical professional.”

“Whatever, big head,” You sneer back playfully. 

Chan stretches out a bit more on the bench, his legs extending and his arms behind his head. You can tell he’s getting more comfortable too, probably ready to call it a night, just like you, and you can’t help but let yourself soften a little.

Without thinking, you shift your body and lean your head down and gently rest it in Chan’s lap. His body stiffens for a moment as if he wasn’t expecting it, but he doesn’t pull away. Instead, he lets you settle, and after a beat, his hand comes to gently rest in your hair, and something tugs at your heartstrings from the feeling. Your eyes slowly flutter to a close.

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[mysterious-moonstruck-musings]

Buried Secrets Chapter 1: Demons of Deception

Buried Secrets Masterlist || Main Masterlist

Summary: After the harrowing events in South America, Frankie and the guys have returned home and opened their own private security business. They're eventually approached by an archeologist, named Mya, who is requesting their specialized services for an archeological expedition in the Amazonian jungle of southeastern Peru, hours away from where they stashed Lorea's money just over the border in the mountains of northern Chile.

Frankie is hesitant to accept the job, but with Pope's insistence this could be their cover to go back for the money, he relents. However, Frankie soon learns their new job assignment only further puts them and his new love interest in danger in an unexpected way as they set out to find the lost Incan city of Paititi.

Word Count: 6.2k

��� Warnings: smut (MDNI), angst, mentions of mental health struggles and past drug use (it's Frankie), there are bad guys with weapons (gun violence, physical violence, death). Frankie Morales comes with his own warnings.

👉 Chapter Warnings: Badass OFC, there are bad guys with weapons (gun violence, physical violence, blood), a surprise appearance or two, brooding Frankie

Chapter Quote: “Why don’t you come a little closer so you can experience the adventure for yourself.”

Mya’s POV

I had been in a lot of tight spots in the past, but nothing could compare to this. The most infuriating thing about it all, it wasn’t because of something I did. I was left to take the fall by someone that I thought loved me.

When I came to, I found myself suspended from the ceiling by my shackled hands. My toes barely touched the floor, just enough to help take some of the weight off my aching shoulders and wrist that stretched above my head. The room was empty and dark, only small hints of sunlight sneaking in through the thick tattered curtains.

Looking around, I saw no way out of this. There was nothing I could use to my advantage and my restraints seemed secure. They had done their due diligence in making sure I couldn’t escape. That was the downside to being taken hostage by people who were familiar with your unusual skill sets.

I wasn’t sure how much time passed before the door creaked open, but it felt like hours. A very pissed off looking Miguel Collazo and one of his enforcers strode into the room, pausing several feet in front of me. I had a sinking feeling in my stomach because I could sense he was beyond reason.

He gave me a menacing glare as he spoke with his thick Spanish accent, “I never thought I would find myself in this kind of situation with you, Mya. You are one of my best collectors, so I am torn on what to do with you.”

I was seething, “How about you unlock these cuffs and let me go. I had nothing to do with this, and you know it.”

He tutted, “I do not believe you. You and Damien have always been inseparable, so I know you know where he is. I want my artifacts and money back.”

Collazo was a pudgy little man with a crooked nose and curly villain mustache that rivaled Dustin Hoffman in Hook. He had a perpetually smug expression that I really wanted to bitch slap off his face as he smirked up at me.

“I don’t know where he is. What would he have to gain from leaving me behind?”

He shrugged as he began to pace back and forth in front of me, “I do not know, to keep me off his trail? It does not make sense to me that he would not tell you his plan.”

I scoffed, “Well I haven’t done that now have I? I have no fucking idea where he is. He was gone when I got home…his phone has been disconnected. I have no way of reaching him.”

The door swung open with a little more force this time. Comandante Veracruz entered, moving to stand next to Collazo. I could see his scruffy angled jaw ticking as his dark eyes looked me over from head to toe. I couldn’t tell what he was thinking, I could only hope he would take pity on me and talk Collazo off the ledge.

Veracruz was head of security for Collazo. Damien and I had gotten to know him well since we worked closely on several heists in the past. He had made his affections for me obvious but would never have acted on them because of Damien. Now that Damien was long gone, I hoped I could use his affections to my advantage.

“What are you thinking?” He asked Collazo in his Spanish accent.

Collazo smiled, “Still undecided…I am going to let Diego work his magic and see what happens. If she knows, she will break.”

Veracruz shifted his gaze to me. He looked conflicted, but didn’t say anything further. Collazo looked to Diego, nodding in my direction as he rasped out, “Comenzar.” (Begin.)

Diego stalked forward, then backhanded me across the cheek. I let out a threatening chuckle as I shook it off. “This isn’t gonna change my answer. I don’t know anything. All you’re doing is pissing me off.”

Collazo laughed, “Good thing we have you chained up then… Continuar, Diego.” (Continue, Diego.)

Diego gave me an empty stare before punching me in the gut, knocking the air out of my lungs. He went on like this for several minutes, punching and slapping. The taste of iron filled my mouth as I pushed through the pain. I refused to let them see how bad I was hurting, even as I felt my left eye swelling and blood running down the sides of my face. All the while Collazo continued to question me.

“Perhaps you could also fill me in on what happened at Lorea’s? Was Damien involved with that too? How much of my money does he actually have?”

I shook my head, “I don’t know anything about that. Maybe he was. If he’s capable of this, then why not? But I don’t know anything. He didn’t tell me.”

Collazo inched forward, causing Diego to momentarily pause his blows and face him as he awaited further instructions.

“Are you sure you do not have anything you wish to tell me, Mya?” Collazo asked.

Clearly, this was going nowhere. It didn’t matter what I said. He didn’t believe me. I spit out the blood that was pooling in my mouth toward his expensive looking white leather shoes, “Yeah, fuck you.”

He didn’t seem impressed, “Still not breaking…I’m shocked. You are stronger than I would have guessed. Hora de tu especialidad, Diego.” (Time for your specialty, Diego.)

My breath caught in my throat as I watched Diego reach for the knife at his belt. A sadistic smile curling on his lips as he nodded in affirmation to his boss. However, he had made a mistake, standing too closely to me with his back turned. I reacted before he even realized what was happening, kicking the knife from his hand and using the chain as leverage to lift myself so I could wrap my legs around his neck. The adrenaline pumping through my veins allowed me to push through the debilitating pain, but I wasn’t sure how long I could hold him. Every muscle and joint in my body was protesting, but I still managed to clamp down tightly around his throat as he clawed at my jean-clad legs. He fought it for a time but eventually passed out from lack of oxygen.

Veracruz stood in shock as he watched Diego fall to his knees. Collazo let out a boisterous laugh and clapped his hands in amusement, “It’s always an adventure with you, Mya.”

I loosened my hold on Diego, allowing him to drop the rest of the way to the ground. I gave Collazo the best sarcastic smile I could muster in my current state, “Yeah? Why don’t you come a little closer so you can experience the adventure for yourself then.”

Collazo chuckled, “I am going to miss your feistiness.”

Veracruz finally interjected, “Perhaps she is telling the truth. It does not make sense that he would leave her if she knew something. Maybe he is planning to return for her?”

Collazo weighed Veracruz’s words, his eyes eventually narrowing in suspicion. “Then he will find that she is missing and that you wait in her place…Acaba con ella, Comandante.” (Finish her, Comandante.)

Fuck. How do I get out of this one?

Veracruz gave a curt nod, taking a deep breath as he drew his pistol and walked toward me. He made sure to stay far enough away that he was out of my reach, but I could still see the nervous sweat forming on his brow and conflict burning in his eyes as he aimed at my face. He held the weapon there, his nostrils flaring and jaw flexing as he clearly struggled with his instructions. I held his gaze, my eyes silently pleading with him in hopes it might sway him to help me in some way. If he didn’t, I was fucked.

“What are you waiting for, Comandante? Finish her,” Collazo ordered again.

I sighed. I didn’t want to do this, but it was the only card I had left to play if Veracruz wasn’t going to help me. I knew it would stop Collazo in his tracks, but I hated myself for it before the words even left my mouth. The Comandante’s finger slowly moved to the trigger, but he was still hesitating.

I flinched away from the barrel of the gun. “WAIT! Wait…” I finally called out.

Collazo sneered as he twisted his stupid mustache with his fingertips, “Better make it good, Mya. This is your last chance.”

I could feel the fight leaving my body as I finally shared the news that I hoped would save my life - at least until I could come up with another way out. “I know the location of Paititi.”

Veracruz lowered his weapon, then turned to give Collazo a questioning look. Collazo’s brows pinched together in doubt, “You lie.”

I shook my head, “I would never…not about this.”

He scoffed, “How do I know you are not just saying this so I do not kill you?”

I huffed out a nervous laugh, “Well, that’s exactly why I’m saying it…but it doesn't make it any less true. I’ve seen the Vatican documents. I know where to look.”

Collazo smiled contemptuously, “That’s impossible. They are inaccessible...How?”

This was the tricky part that was probably going to get me shot, “I-I can’t tell you how…but just know, if you shoot me, the knowledge dies with me. No one else knows about this, not even Damien.”

Veracruz smirked in my direction, “Well…it seems the secrets run deep between both of you then.”

I let out a sardonic laugh, “Damien never believed in Paititi…he said it was a wasted effort…a myth. I kept a lot from him...”

Collazo came closer but made sure to keep Veracruz positioned between us. “What are you proposing, Mya? How can I trust you after this?”

“Let me prove my loyalty. Let me lead an expedition to find the lost city for you. All I ask is that you let me do it the right way, the legal way. I just need funding…”

He didn’t seem convinced, but I was still breathing, so it wasn’t a no. I changed tactics, now playing the role of a hurt and scorned lover, “I swear, I had no knowledge of what Damien was doing. IF he comes back for me, I’ll kill him myself. He betrayed me too. I’m here because of what he did. I can’t forgive him for that.”

Collazo sighed, “If you want to do this the legal way, you know you cannot have any known ties to me…”

I had him. Death would not be taking me today, but I had to think quickly so I could talk myself out of this mess.

“I’ll figure out the logistics…Maybe I set up a donation fund through the gallery…you can donate anonymously to fund the project. I’ll give you access to whatever I find first before I report the discovery.”

This was far from how I wanted to do things, especially since I was hellbent on getting out of my life of crime, but I saw no other way forward at the moment.

Veracruz turned to Collazo, “If you’re willing to chance it, I can keep an eye on her…”

Collazo met my gaze, “Fine. One wrong move though…and you are done. You understand?”

I nodded, “Yes, I understand.”

My eyes shifted to Veracruz, who visibly relaxed, realizing the threat had passed. Collazo turned to leave and tossed him the key, “Cuida sus heridas.” (Take care of her wounds.)

He watched Collazo exit and close the door before he turned to me, leaning in close to my ear as he worked to unlock the cuffs, “I really thought I was about to have to shoot up the place to get you out of here. That was clever…how long can you keep this ruse going?”

The cuffs loosened, I groaned at the ache in my joints as I lowered my arms and leaned into him for support, “It’s not a ruse…I was telling the truth…”

My words trailed off as I sucked in a sharp breath.

“Are you OK?” he asked.

I shook my head, my breath now shaky as the pain began to overtake me, “Fuck n-no. I-I think he cracked some ribs.”

He sighed, “I’m sorry. I should have done something more…”

I winced as we began to walk, “No, I get it. It probably just would have gotten us both killed. You did what you could in the moment.”

Veracruz did have a soft spot for me, but I wasn’t a fool. He would never sacrifice himself for me. He wasn’t that selfless. He would only help so long as it didn’t put him in the crosshairs. He was an unreliable ally in the best of circumstances, and I knew that. At least he cared enough to see that I was taken care of while I recovered.

I knew I would have to watch out for myself as I plotted and planned because there were demons of deception around every corner. I could put my trust in no one, not even the one person I thought was safe. I was quickly learning they would all betray me in the end, which is why I wanted out of this life. I wanted to walk the straight and narrow again. The money was not worth death. It was getting too dangerous to continue living this way.

Six Months Later…

Frankie’s POV

I awoke with a groan, squinting toward the window to find the sun was just beginning to rise. The reason for my sudden waking, my cell phone incessantly pinging from incoming text messages on the nightstand. I didn’t even need to look to know that it was Pope. I huffed, reaching for the device to see what the hell he wanted this early in the morning.

Pope: We still on for the range today? I know we had a late night, but I’m still going.

Pope: Will and Benny are out. Apparently, Benny is feeling last night’s fight. He 100% got his ass kicked.

Pope: Which means Will is being his bitch today.

Pope: So, that leaves us. You better not stand me up, pendejo.

I rolled my eyes. Why can’t he just put all of that in one fucking message? He texts like a teenage girl.

Frankie: Chill the fuck out, pendejo. I’ll be there.

Pope: 9AM. Don’t be late.

Frankie: 🖕

Pope: 🖕🖕

I dropped the phone beside me on the bed and sighed. Without Benny and Will there, I knew Pope would start badgering me about going back for Lorea’s money. He was becoming almost obsessive over the idea. Not that I could blame him, having a little extra cash on hand would be a huge help right now. Supporting two households wasn’t easy, even if the new private security business was doing well.

I palmed at my sleepy face, trying to wake up. My eyes finally blinked open and surveyed my near empty bedroom. The bareness of the place was a constant reminder of how I had fucked everything up and ended up alone. Starting over was never fun, but this was torture knowing that my now ex-fiancé, Maria, had given me every chance and I squandered them. Now she was moving on, my young daughter now spending time with a new man in their life and calling him Papi while I fought for unsupervised visitation.

I had no one to blame but myself. I was the one who fell off the wagon and started a slow coke spiral after we got back from South America. What we had gone through, losing Tom, it was too much and we did it for nothing. We left with nothing to show for it but the body of our Captain. We got messy. I got messy. And it broke me. I should have put my foot down about how much weight that bird could carry. If I had, we might be living completely different lives right now. Tom might still be here.

I puffed air out of my cheeks before slinging the blanket off so I could go make some coffee. After padding down the short hallway of my very modest two-bedroom fixer-upper, I loaded up the coffee machine. I stood, leaning against the counter, scanning the space while the sputtering drips began to fall into the pot. I really needed to do something to make the place look less like military barracks and more like a home. Especially if I was eventually going to have my kid here. The mere thought of all the work that needed to be done made my chest feel tight. I had to shake my head to push the never-ending checklist out of my mind and focus on something else before it put me in an even worse mood.

Once my coffee was ready, I decided to sit out on the front porch swing to enjoy the calm of the morning. After getting comfortable, I let my mind run through several things that needed to be taken care of at the office. I was thinking through some budget requests while watching two squirrels chase each other around the base of an old Oak tree when movement on the street caught my attention. A blacked-out SUV crept down the road, eventually speeding up and disappearing around the corner. It put me on edge. It was too nice of a vehicle to be driving through this neighborhood.

I was probably just being paranoid, but the fear of one of Lorea’s business partner’s finding out who stole some of their money and then torched the rest was a very real concern - for me at least. The rest of the guys seemed to think we were in the clear. I wasn’t completely convinced, and it constantly had me on alert.

I sat for a while, my eyes scanning the quaint neighborhood I had chosen to settle down in, looking for anything that seemed out of place. Finding nothing, I eventually scoffed at myself, thinking that perhaps I was being ridiculous about this whole thing as I stood to go get ready to meet Pope.

A short time later, I found myself pulling into the gun range parking lot. This had become sort of a weekend routine for us. It served as an escape, allowing me to have a taste of the military life that I was so accustomed to before retiring. It was the only time I found that my mind was completely empty. There was something freeing about it, helping me to relax - most days. Today, however, was another story. I could tell from the look on Pope’s face as soon as he stepped out of his vehicle that he was cooking up some kind of plan.

He smiled as I approached, clapping me on the back in greeting, “Hey, hermano. You get enough sleep?”

I gave him a tight smile, “Could have gotten a little more if you weren’t texting me at the asscrack of dawn.”

Pope grimaced, “Sorry. I wasn’t paying attention to the time.”

I rolled my eyes at him, “Of course not... What did you book for us today?”

He turned to grab his duffel out of the backseat, “I got us two one-hundred-yard lanes. They only had one three-hundred open.”

I shook my head, “Figures. Alright, let’s go.”

The range was busy, for which I was thankful. It made it harder for Pope to get a word in. There was an eventual lull in the shooting, and he wasted no time in taking advantage of it. He leaned in closer, pulling one side of his earmuffs away as we worked to reload. I did the same so I could hear what he had to say.

“I think I can get us into Columbia, off the radar. I’ve got a contact…”

I held up my hand, “Stop. I don’t wanna hear it.”

I could see the frustration on his face as his jaw tensed, “Come on Fish, this could work. I’ll cover the cost again…get the documents…everything. No one knows where that money is except for us. We shouldn’t run into any problems. There wouldn’t be any contact with the cartel. It’s a quick in and out.”

After inserting a fresh magazine into the rifle and replacing my earmuff, my lips set into a tight line. I gave him a tense look before stepping to the firing line to discharge at the target. My non-answer seemed to end the conversation, for now.

I took the time to get lost in the target, giving it all my focus as I peppered it with bullet holes in and around the center. My mind was finally quiet, and I reveled in it, wishing it would stay that way for the rest of the day. I knew that was wishful thinking though. It never did.

Once that magazine was empty, I returned to the table that separated my lane from Pope’s so I could reload. He joined me, staring off in the distance, seemingly distracted by something before finally turning his attention to me and removing his right muff. I did the same as I gave him a warning with my eyes.

“How’s it going with Maria? Any headway?”

I shook my head, “Nope. If she has it her way, I’ll get zero visitation. She’s done with me…won’t listen to anything I have to say. She doesn’t believe I’ve cleaned up my act.”

Pope sighed as he gave me a sympathetic look, “Sorry, hermano. I hoped she would come around. Don’t let it get you down though. We’ve got your back. Whatever you need…”

I nodded, “Yeah, I appreciate it. I might need you guys as character witnesses if it gets to that point.”

He gave me a soft reassuring smile, “Consider it done.”

His eyes drifted again as a larger caliber rifle began to sound off from the far lane. He seemed intrigued as I raised a questioning eyebrow at him. He glanced over at me, jerking his chin upward indicating I should have a look. It didn’t take me long to figure out what had his attention, or who rather. There was a woman in the farthest three-hundred-yard lane, lying on her stomach, shooting the high caliber rifle that had ended our conversation. She was wearing army green fatigues that definitely did not fit like military issue pants as they hugged her curvy hips and ass just right. She was also wearing a black ribbed tank top, black military style boots, and a black SWAT hat pulled down low over her aviators. Her dark hair was tied back in a messy knot at the nape of her neck. I could see why she had his attention. Aside from her attractive form, this wasn’t a sight we saw here very often.

As she stood, she turned toward us. Her eyes hidden behind the dark glasses with her lips set into a tight line, giving nothing away. I glanced at Pope, who seemed smitten already. I rolled my eyes at him as I stepped back up to the firing line. Hot women were always his weakness. He would disagree, but we all knew it.

When I returned to the table, it was clear Pope was still distracted as he continued to glance her way. His eyes finally met mine. “You been out with anyone since you and Maria split?” he asked.

I gave him an admonishing look as I shook my head. I didn’t feel like that was the best idea right now. I had too much going on.

It was his turn to roll his eyes, “Not saying you need to step into anything serious, but you do need to lighten up. A one-nighter might do you some good and help with that.”

I glared at him, “I’m not doing that. It always turns into trouble.”

He snorted, “Well…maybe you should be worse at it, so they don’t come back for more.”

I could feel my cheeks warming from his words as I flashed my middle finger at him, “Fuck off.”

He jerked his chin toward the last lane as the woman got into position again, hitting the three-hundred-yard target dead center when she finally shot off a round.

“You should go ask her out.”

I scoffed, “No. I’m not…”

Pope jutted his hip out, putting his weight on one foot, “Come on… Maria’s moving on. It’s time you did too.”

I could feel my jaw flexing at the mention of that, “No. Just let it go.”

Pope chuckled, “Yeah, I don’t blame you. That looks like too much woman for you to handle anyway. She’d probably kick your ass…I don’t think you’re ready for that.”

I shook my head, giving him an exasperated look, “What the hell does that even mean?”

He gave me a mischievous smile as he shrugged, then turned toward the firing line to begin shooting again.

Fucker. I was half tempted to talk to her just to prove a point.

I suddenly felt like eyes were on me as I glanced back over at the woman. I couldn’t tell because of her glasses, but it appeared that she was looking directly at me with a small smirk on her full lips. One eyebrow raised slightly as she picked up another clip, returning to the rifle to reload it. Now I was intrigued.

By the time Pope and I finished off our last magazine, she was gone. As we walked to the parking lot, Pope was quietly berating himself for letting the opportunity pass before he asked if I thought she might be back again. I shrugged, somewhat amused over his new infatuation because I knew he would be distracted by someone else as soon as he stepped foot into the bar later this evening.

After our goodbyes, I made my way to the local auto parts store to pick up a couple of specialty tools that I needed for a restoration I was currently working on in my spare time. I had inherited my dad’s dark red 1970 Chevelle SS 454 when he passed away several years ago. We always said we would work together to fix it up, but it never happened. Instead, it sat idle in his garage for years. It did the same after I took over ownership of it, not having the time or the energy for it. Now that I was alone, I found myself with plenty of opportunities and the need to keep myself occupied. It was another one of those things that helped keep my mind distracted when I needed it most. I was actually thankful for it even though it was turning into an expensive project.

With the new tools in tow, I returned home. After making myself a quick sandwich and scarfing it down, I sequestered myself away in the dilapidated shack beside the house that was meant to serve as a garage. It quickly became my refuge, and I had zero complaints about it - even if it did have a leaky roof and shitty lighting. It got the job done and that was all that mattered.

I spent all afternoon working, attempting to keep my mind from drifting to thoughts of the large bags full of money hidden in the Andes mountains of Chile. After the cluster fuck we got into last time we were in South America, I was having a hard time reconciling the idea of going back. Pope was right, we had no reason to interact with the cartels this time. We could easily sneak in and collect the cash without anyone knowing, assuming it was still where we left it.

What we should do about the money was a constant internal battle for me. I didn’t know if I should accept Pope’s reasoning over mine. However, the fear of losing another team member acted as a grey cloud that hung over my head and kept me from going back. I couldn’t go through that again. It affected every decision I had made since we got back. I couldn’t shake it no matter how hard I tried. The risk was too high without guarantee of a reward.

While I respected Pope’s attempts, I still had to consider outside forces that we had no control over. He had all of the trust in the world for his ‘contacts,’ but I didn’t. It would only take one of them to tip off the cartel if they got wind of what we were doing. It wasn’t a risk I was willing to take. I had spent hours going through every angle, all the possible problems we could run into. All of his plans seemed too dangerous, leaving too many unknowns. He just needed to accept that as my final decision and stop trying to rope us into another one of his crazy plans.

That was my final thought on it - for today anyway.

Mya’s POV

I had been planning the expedition for six months, meticulously researching every detail. That’s how I ended up at the local gun range for the last three Saturdays, doing a little recon on the owner of the security firm I was looking to hire. Collazo offered to provide security, but I needed this to be as far removed from him as possible to protect the reputation of my Gallery and the Archaeology Preservation Foundation that I had set up to fund the dig. Veracruz would still be on site to keep an eye on things, but all other aspects of the project were up to me and that included keeping my team safe.

Delta 5 Security Solutions had been recommended to me by a number of high-profile locals. It was owned by a military veteran named Francisco Morales, who worked to keep other veterans employed. Because of this, Delta 5 Security Solutions seemed much more equipped to handle the dangers of the Peruvian jungle than other firms. Word on the street was that they even offered specialized air transport services, on occasion. I needed a couple of pilots, so they seemed to check all the boxes. It would save me from having to set up multiple contracts at least.

The more time I spent watching Francisco, the more I questioned if he was the right choice. He definitely didn’t have the brightest of personalities, often seeming frustrated and stressed when he arrived at the range - like he was carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders. I could, however, see his focus and determination as he fired at the targets. He was a good shot and exuded authority and control with his weapon. Sure, he came across as a little disheveled and scruffy, but there was something under the surface that intrigued me just enough to see where things went.

Like most Saturdays, Francisco wasn’t alone for his latest outing. He was accompanied by one of his employees, Santiago Garcia. Santiago seemed a lot more easy going and appeared to enjoy pushing Francisco’s buttons based on the serious side eye that was being thrown his way. From the intel I had gathered, these two, along with the Miller brothers, all served in the same military unit and seemed to be close friends in addition to running the security firm together. I had been watching all of them over the last several weeks to get a feel for their dynamic. I could see that they were loyal to each other and worked well together. It was almost for those reasons alone that I felt they would be a good fit. At least they understood loyalty and it left me wondering how loyal they could be to me if things took a turn.

However, I knew this all hinged on Francisco accepting the job. I had been warned that he wasn’t big on risks and wasn’t afraid to turn jobs down for that reason. He really was an enigma that I couldn’t figure out. Aside from his gruff demeanor, he seemed quiet and introspective - a reluctant leader, but the guy in charge, nonetheless. He also seemed to be having some life struggles but appeared to be on the upswing from those. I was concerned that it could serve as a distraction for him, but I still found myself wanting him and his team. I wouldn’t settle for anything less. My gut told me there was more to him than meets the eye and I wanted the opportunity to peel back those layers so I could find out who he really was as a person.

As I positioned myself on the ground to shoot the high caliber rifle that I had rented from the range, I could feel eyes on me. It probably wasn't the best choice since I hadn’t intended to draw attention to myself. There weren't a lot of women at the range, let alone any shooting a weapon like this at three-hundred yards. After hitting the target with multiple rounds, I stood, adjusting my aviators as I glanced toward the two men I was here to watch, realizing that I definitely had Santiago’s attention. Francisco gave me a brief glance before stepping up to shoot his own rifle. I had to give it to him; he didn’t allow for distractions. Santiago on the other hand, seemed to have at least one weakness. Women. I couldn’t help rolling my eyes over that realization as I packed up to leave.

After running home to shower and change into more professional attire, I headed toward my antiquities gallery to open for the day. Soon after opening, a well-dressed gentleman with dark hair and a beard entered, immediately asking to speak with the owner. The first thing I noticed were his kind eyes and submissive nature. He definitely had the tall, dark, and handsome thing going for him. Once I introduced myself, he got down to business with a polite smile.

“I apologize for showing up without an appointment, but I got a lead on this painting and wanted to follow up on it right away. I’m looking to purchase and pay cash if you have it…or can point me in the right direction.”

I returned his polite smile with one of my own, “If you can provide me with the details, I’d be happy to check our inventory for you.”

He pulled out his phone, tapping away to pull up a picture, “It's the Cazador (The Hunter), by Luis Magin…a 20th century Maya oil painting.”

I could feel my blood run cold as my body tensed. This was a missing painting listed in the National Stolen Art File. I was taken aback that this man would be asking for stolen artwork. He didn’t seem the type.

I laughed nervously, “Sir, I’m sorry…but we don’t sell stolen art. I’m not sure why you were sent here…”

He reached to pull a crumpled piece of paper from his pocket and held it up, revealing Damien’s name scribbled on it. I could feel my breathing pick up as I fought to stay calm. Something felt wrong about this.

“I was told you could put me in contact with Damien Ravenwood…”

He seemed a little pushier now, like that name was supposed to magically solve the problem.

I shook my head, “I no longer associate with Damien Ravenwood…for obvious reasons. I don’t allow black market antiquities in my gallery.”

The man narrowed his eyes slightly, “My apologies. It must be a misunderstanding…”

His words trailed off as he reached inside the breast pocket of his suit jacket to pull out a business card, handing it over as he continued, “If he happens to show up…for any reason at all, please give me a call. I’d love to lock him down for a few minutes of his time.”

I glanced at the name on the card, Vincent Delacroix. It was obviously fake - a mashup of two famous painter’s names. There was nothing else on the card but a phone number. I gave him a tight-lipped smile as I waved the card in the air, “Yeah, sure, Mr. Delacroix. I’ll be sure to send him your way.”

There was something seriously off with this guy. I wasn’t sure if he was a black-market buyer or working undercover. Either way, I did not want to be in the middle of it. ‘Mr. Delacroix’ nodded and smiled before moving toward the exit. He paused halfway to the door, turning back in my direction, “I’m assuming you no longer have contact with Miguel Collazo either then? Or Persephone, by chance?

I could feel my jaw clench at the mention of Collazo and my black-market alias. I shook my head, “I’m sorry, I don’t think I’ve had any dealings with those individuals.”

He gave me a charming smile in return, “Yeah, I thought that might be the case. Never hurts to ask...Thank you for your time, Miss Carnahan.”

He hesitated briefly, still smiling as he turned to leave. Once he finally exited the building, I let out the breath I didn’t realize I had been holding.

I was startled from my thoughts when my archivist, Emily, appeared at my side. “Who was that?” she asked.

“Honestly, I have no idea…if he shows back up, come get me. No one else talks to him. Understood?”

She nodded in agreement.

The day was certainly taking a turn that I hadn’t expected. As if I didn’t have enough to worry about as it was, it felt like something else had just been added to the list.

Chapter 2: The Divine Source

✨If you would like to be added to the tag list, feel free to shoot me a DM or leave a comment.

A/N: SURPRISE! I know I said I wouldn’t start posting until Closed Position was complete, but it’s taking me for fucking ever to finish that one and I think I’ve made you wait long enough. Since I’ve got a decent start with this lovey adventure, I’ll go ahead and start posting. 😘

Now that we’ve gotten the first chapter out of the way, what are your thoughts? How are we feeling about Mya and Frankie? We definitely started with a bang (no pun intended).

I know I teased that Veracruz would be making an appearance. It turns out…he may have a slightly bigger role than I originally planned. We need a little extra tension with Frankie and I think Veracruz will serve as an excellent plot device for that. How do we feel about him so far? 🤭

We had another special appearance too. Anyone want to take a guess on who Mya’s surprise visitor is?

In the next chapter: Mya will drop in to visit the boys, Frankie has a decision to make, Mya accidentally gets a little nerdy on Frankie, and Frankie and Veracruz cross paths. Please do share your predictions. 😏

Tag group 1:

@2birdsofafeather @72scsuze @76bookworm76 @a-beautiful-but-sassy-world @almostfoxglove

@angelofsmalldeath-codeine @annalovesflorida @anniet852 @ashleyfilm @ashlovesdrpepper

@auteurdelabre @avastrasposts @biggetywitch @bitchwitch1981 @bluestar22x

@bunniboo0015 @burntheedges @captainredspade @chaoticfestninja @cheekychaos28

@christinamadsen @copperhalfcent @darkheartgatita @diabaroxa @din-cognito

@elisabethloves @fifitheragertot @for-a-longlongtime @girlofchaos @guelyury

@harriedandharassed @hisandsnakes @imdrinkingpedro @jackie923 @janeie87

@jeewrites @jensensational71 @jessthebaker @jessthebaker @joels-darlin

@kate-skates @katw474 @kels976 @lady-bess @gwendibleywrites

@ladyofmidlo72 @lizzie-cakes @madnessofadaydreamer @maggiemoo1892

[academicfever]

55/100 days of productivity!

so, my chronic pain is back after a short break... which means I literally can't do the things I need to do... anyway let's get a good day in...

I accept myself exactly as I am in this moment. My worth is not determined by my productivity or my pain. I am enough, just as I am. Every small step I take today is a victory. Progress is progress, no matter how small. I am doing my best, and that is always enough.

to-do: 1.2.25

Morning yoga

mental health check _journal

Go to the mall

Writing session 1

Reading 2P _opt

Pain makes it hard to work effectively Falling behind creates anxiety Anxiety increases muscle tension Increased tension worsens pain Worse pain makes work even harder More falling behind... and the cycle continues And each loop of this cycle can make you feel more stuck and hopeless, which adds another layer of stress. It's not just in your head - this is a very real physiological and psychological pattern.

[niiwa-angel]

Birth control isn't just for preventing pregnancy. I feel like this is a conversation that's been had numerous times before. Women use birth control for reasons other than preventing pregnancy.

Women with endometriosis may use it to try and manage the symptoms.

Women with mental health issues that are exasperated by their menstrual cycle use it to take care of their mental health

Women with irregular periods use it to regulate their periods

Women with terrible period cramps or other symptoms use it to lessen those symptoms

Women with chronic acne may use it to control their acne.

Some women with chronic migraines find birth control brings some relief.

Women with PCOS may use birth control to manage their symptoms.

Birth control has many different uses and it helps women in a lot of ways. Even women who are die hard 4B separatists, lesbians, or febfems may use birth control for the above reasons. Can female birth control be improved? Fuck yes it can! Does that mean it's irredeemably awful right now? No!

Personally, I started using birth control at 19 because my periods were irregular as fuck and I couldn't stand it anymore. One of my best friends has cystic acne and has been on birth control since she was 15 because it lessens the flare ups and makes it so her face, neck, and back aren't constantly flaring up. One of my aunts has Bipolar Disorder and used birth control in her early 20s because medication for Bipolar Disorder was a little hit and miss at the time and the help of birth control helped stave off the depressive episodes.

Hey everyone there’s a new search engine app and browser called diem created by a team of women where you can ask anything from career advice to birth control and other personal questions. You can read more on their website!

[noirve]

imagine you have been clinically depressed for years but your genius best friend detective partner is even more fucked up so you bond over being suicidal substance abusing workaholics together until your partner starts to spiral so far into alcoholism that he hurts everyone around him, pushes you away, ruins you and your precinct's reputation, but you still keep showing up for him, you're always there to help him out of the gutter, despite the damage it's doing to your mental health and career, despite him failing his promise to do better over and over again for years, until at some point he gives himself brain damage and loses his entire memory. but look! he has a new partner now who he does want to be better for and who he also seems to like way more than you! you show up to check how he's doing after he tells you to fuck off before going on a destructive bender and he does not recognize you, he does not remember a single thing you did for him, it was all for nothing, you are nothing to him now

well this happened to my good friend jean vicquemare,

[qqueenofhades]

Genuine question, since I'm another person your recent posts have inspired to contact government officials: why is calling the best method? Is it because constant phone traffic disrupts everything else, the idea that people people only call about things they really care about, or something else that isn't apparent to me? I'm really curious as to how this particular feature of government works.

And thank you again for maintaining hope while still spreading awareness. Kindness ripples outwards to touch many lives. Anyway, here's a picture of my service dog being real confused about what we're supposed to be looking at.

Calling is the best method because congressional staffers actively monitor the number of constituent calls that they receive on [x] issue and have to present that information to their congresscritter on a usually-weekly basis. Whereas emails can easily be responded to with a form letter/go straight to junk/dismissed as a crank/etc. However, I want to emphasize that again, any contact and any proactive action to make your concerns known to your elected officials is better than none. If you are scared to call and want to do an email first to get the hang of it: that is okay! You are still forcing SOMETHING into the system and at least making them register your email. I am not here to shame anyone for taking the steps that feel best to them at first.

Calling is also important as a blue-leaning person because red voters call/badger elected officials more often and have no shame about doing it, so this is the one time you have to channel your inner Republican and make a stink at elected officials. It does work and consistent public pressure/feedback can move important votes and actions either left or right. I do not expect everybody to spend all their time calling their elected officials about every single outrageous thing Trump/Musk/et al are doing, because otherwise you would be doing nothing but. Pick a few issues and monitor them and see what you need to do and who you need to pressure, but if you also need to take a break for your mental health, do that too. That way if there is something you really feel that you have to speak out on at once, you will be more ready to do it and more ready to engage over a longer period of time, rather than just in spasmodic rage bursts about whatever outrage of the day they've cooked up now.

(Also, what a good puppy. Not patting because they are working hard and I respect that, but yes.)

[misslizzygrant1111]

hey dolls so i might need help w smth. i have this best friend whos been my bestie since we were like 5 years old but shes literally never there for me. i mean she’s always calling me and venting to me abt all her problems and i have absolutely no problem w helping her out bc that’s what real friends do but i can not even remember one time that shes asked me if i’m ok. i mean partly it’s my fault because i do have trouble opening up to ppl and she once told me she finds sh disgusting and weird so yeah now i just feel even more uncomfortable opening up to her abt that. she only cares abt being popular and is always telling me i need to stop dressing “coquette” because it’s weird and i should stop isolating myself and being so quiet but like omg doesn’t she ever think there’s a reason for that? like tf maybe i’m not socializing enough bc my mental health and social anxiety doesn’t permit it. she’s always telling me that bc apparently she “cares abt me” and she’s “worried that i might regret not living my teenage years to the fullest” but tf no you’re not. you just want all your friends to be popular to not be friends w “weird” ppl. anyways thanks for reading my rant i love you dolls

also might delete this later xx

[spoonsandstripesblog]

I’ve struggled with some variety of mental illness my entire life. I was fiercely bullied in middle school leading to a possible diagnosis of C-PTSD, per a social worker (I never pursued an official diagnosis). I’ve had anxiety which led to nail biting and skin picking to the point of bleeding and scars. I had undiagnosed and untreated ADHD that I find myself struggling more with now as an adult than I did as a kid. And I had undiagnosed bipolar disorder - I didn’t get diagnosed until I started rapid cycling at 21 following a medication change.

Now, with chronic pain and chronic illness, I have continued anxiety related to my health. My body is unpredictable, and we live in a world where we rely on health insurance and medical providers so we can get care and they’re not always the most reliable. My fatigue and brain fog are crippling at times and it’s hard for me to focus on doing anything more than the bare minimum sometimes. This can lead to isolation and depression.

People do not talk about the effects of chronic illness on a person’s mental health. We are doing our best with what we’ve got.

I think the mental impacts of chronic illnesses and disabilities should be talked about more.

Because it's absolutely soul crushing having your body betray you. How can it not have an effect on your mental health? That's not even going over the grief, trouble socialising as a result of how bad your symptoms can get or the constant fear of getting worse.

It's not exactly something thatd easy to just be fine with

[gothamite-rambler]

Ominous voice on the phone: Seven days.

Tim: For what?

Ominous voice: Seven days.

Tim: In a week? Yes, that is how long a week is. Is that all you needed to call about, stranger?

Ominous voice: No. Seven days… to live.

Tim: And?

Ominous voice: You're going to die in seven days.

Tim: FINALLY!

Bruce: Life is not that bad. End the call.

Tim: We have the Lazarus pit and unlike Jason I can handle it. Ma'am, I'm assuming you are because you sound like a little girl, but do you promise?

Ominous voice: What?

Tim: Do you really promise that you'll be here in seven days to kill me? I need to prepare for that death. Is it still a flat screen that'll get me, or can I expect something more creative?

Bruce: Give me the phone.

Tim (placing a hand on Bruce's face): I can set up lights and snacks if you need that.

Ominous voice: You're… supposed to be scared.

Tim chuckled flatly.

Tim: If I died right now, I'd welcome it. I live in Gotham. A sunny day either means I won’t have to deal with something awful or that something truly terrible is around the corner. My adopted father? I spent my teenage years helping him with his mental health, and then my parents died soon after. I didn't kill myself when my father died because I thought I wasn’t worthy of death, and then said adopted father put me through a test that nearly pushed me over the edge.

Ominous voice: …

Tim: So, is there a time or anything?

Bruce (taking the phone): Um, can you pick someone else for this? My kids are, um, not the best with mental health.

Tim: We learn from the best!

Bruce: I said I was sorry about the test!

Tim: Three months later!

Bruce: Is that not enough?

Tim: I would have appreciated no test at all! I'm not suicidal I just need a reboot.

Bruce: Tim... I care about you and understand the sentiment, but no. Death and pit isn't the answer to mental health.

Ominous voice: Sorry to interrupt, but yeah, don’t worry about me coming after him. In fact, who are your other kids? I’d like to avoid them and hope they get the help they need.

Bruce: Okay, so the first one is my eldest son, Dick. He handles his depression well enough… but he'd welcome death as well.

[baphometsss]

my childfreeness is projecting again so here, have some of my childfree headcanons

Solas is sterile because he's old as fuck and his balls just don't make baby batter like they used to (Trick lk confirmed this teehee 🩷)

Did they ever work though?? I mean he literally just manifested as a fully grown man like all the ancient elves did. Iirc that's why modern elves don't have DNA. We never seem to find out when they started having babies naturally so it's possible he was always sterile (kind of like in TRC when Ronan pulls people out of his dreams and they don't even have internal organs)

Taleani Lavellan has always liked spirits and animals more than people because they're kind of uncomfortable around kids and people in general so not breeding is a very natural choice for them

Not to say they don't care about them at all bc she had a duty as her clan's midwife and helped all the new mothers out etc but she just doesn't have a clue how to talk to kids and has no desire to learn

Solas also doesn't know wtf to do around kids and either ignores them or talks to them like they're fully grown adults while they stare back at him blankly

He also canonically doesn't like loud noises and bollocks Blackwall for training the kids right outside his room in DAI

"Not now kitten Daddy's lamenting his war crimes and I have to talk him down again"--Lavellan probably

Being childfree makes them focus on each other a whole lot more. Makes me think about that old photo of some soldier returning from war to meet his kid for the first time ever and just shoving it under his arm upside down so he can kiss his wife. That would be Solas as a dad

Seriously they would have 0 time for that kid while the other was present . Tough luck kiddo your mother's wearing a low cut top today and her titties look divine. Go play in the Fade and don't come back for at least a couple of hours

Straight up Gomez and Morticia Addams if the kids weren't there

Absolutely fucking awful parents . No time to be normal when there are blighted titans to deal with

Also they can explore the Fade much further and learn so much more without having to get a spirit babysitter in

They can nerd out over all the new discoveries they make and do all the dangerous experiments they like without having to worry about the safety of a person with no sense of danger

They can have impromptu shags on the kitchen table and not worry about getting walked in on and scarring that kid mentally with their outrageous sex life

When they're stressed from a hard day of titan soothing and they just want to relax and talk they don't have to fight the bedtime battle or deal with whatever stinky mess the kid made

Lavellan doesn't have to worry about losing her teeth, or becoming incontinent, or having any of the myriad health issues that arise from pregnancy and childbirth with limited resources to do anything about it

Solas can teach Lavellan how to take a big wolf form like him once he binds her to his life force so they can live forever and it won't endanger the kid

Taleani doesn't give a shit about having a legacy but who needs one anyway if you live forever?

No kids stuff littering the house means more space for books and dangerous artefacts and frescoes that won't get ruined by sticky hands

No arguments about how to best raise a child. Just arguments about philosophy and war crimes

No kids mean they can sleep all they want and have epic dream escapades without interruptions

Just. No kids in the Fade prison allowed. Or the Fade. Or within a 500 mile radius of Solas and Lavellan. Seriously who the hell thought that was a good idea in the first place

[hermits-crab]

JANUARY 2025 FIC RECOMMENDATIONS — STARDEW VALLEY

NOTES: This is something I’ve wanted to do for a while and with it being a new year, I thought this was the perfect opportunity to start! I’ve been doing something similar on Spotify for the past 5 years now where every month, I make a playlist that features all the songs I listened to the most in that month. I’ve also been inspired by @stardewfanficwriters and the monthly rec lists they post! Includes direct links to both the fics and authors’ profiles.

YOU REALLY GOT ME — softwisp

[Sam/Sebastian, Friends to Lovers, Masturbation, Drug Use, Anal Sex, Voice Actor Sebastian]

Sam has started losing his mind recently. He can’t tell what exactly it is, the shift in weather.. the time of year. Even the slightest breeze sets his skin aflame.

It has nothing to do with his best friend. Even if his dark eyes and plump lips swarm his thoughts and dreams.

He’s been lying awake at night, in a cold sweat, unable to sleep. His days start to blur together, he’s not acting like himself. He doesn’t know what he’s doing. He needs to fix it. Maybe something online can help?

TEAR AWAY FROM THEIR SPINES — avidsim

[Sam/Sebastian, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Prostitution, Implied Sexual Content]

Sam and Sebastian move to Zuzu City for the good of their band. The good of their finances and mental health? Not so much.

A SONNET IN GREEN — iltuopreferito

[Elliott/Female Reader, Smut, Jealousy, Possessive Behavior, Vaginal Fingering, Praise]

Elliott gets jealous. You've never seen your new boyfriend so possessive. He demands your attention and wants to make certain he'll keep it.

INFLUENCED BY THE BOOK — VampiricAngel18_Yin_Right

[Elliott/Female Reader, Smut, Sexual Roleplay, Mild Rope Play, Pet Names]

Spending the night with the farmer, Elliott goes through her books, and finds a well loved dark romance. After a few days, he role plays with the farmer.

EUPHORIA — Angel_with_an_assbutt

[Sam/Sebastian/Female Player, Smut & Fluff, Loss of Virginity, Threesome, Oral & Vaginal Sex]

“Seb, I think I need you to help me lose my virginity.”

Fluffy/smutty one shot in which Sam requests his best friend's help in losing his virginity, but he didn't think Sebastian would take it so literally.

OPERATION: BIRTHDAY DINNER — Mongoosing

[Harvey/Female Reader, Smut & Fluff, Praise, Dirty Talk, Vaginal Fingering, Soft Dom Harvey]

You're not very good at asking for what you need. Harvey intends to help you with that.

WET SPRING HEAT — CastielCoven

[Sam/Sebastian, Smut, Vibrators, Sex Toys, Public Sex, Coming in Pants, Public Humiliation]

Sebastian wears a vibrator for Sam during the Stardew Valley Fair, it almost goes south.

STRESS RELIEVER — fanfictionally, @beholdthebangs

[Sam/Female Reader & Kent/Female Reader, Smut, Rough Sex, Daddy Kink, Vaginal & Oral Sex, Free Use]

Sam invites himself and Kent over to your house for dinner one night, seemingly an opportunity to get to know your boyfriend’s father better after his recent arrival to town. Things take a turn when you try to give Kent some ideas to relax, Sam having his own thoughts on the subject when he offers you up as a solution. Only under his supervision, of course.

— PLEASE GO SUPPORT THESE AUTHORS!

[just--vi]

January has been a month of self-care. I think it's incredibly important to let ourselves enjoy things while the world goes to shit. I've been feeling this intense guilt as I read and write and engage in other hobbies, and then trying to dismantle that, because now more than ever I think it's important not to let our mental health tank.

So with that said, I dragged myself kicking and screaming out of my reading slump and read 405,854 words this month. Here are a few of the fics that gave me immense joy:

Multiplying Parents by @heartofspells (meddling Harry, sweetest fic I've read in a long time)

Satellites by @jennandblitz (musician AU, had me kicking my little feet)

Pas de Deux in the Upper West Side by wilteddaisy (ballet, enemies to lovers, so juicy)

Two Idiots Falling in Love in Winter by @r33sespieces (wintery wolfstar that also had me kicking my little feet)

AND! Two new WIPS!

By My Hand Alone by xjustakay (slutty pirates!!)

Versions of Uncertainty by @shoopsthereitis (domestic teacher au!!)

These WIPS disrupted my month of Wolfstar. I'm doing my best to read all the short little Muggle AUs out there.